


Language of Flowers

by mycahthelittlehobbit, voxangelus



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Anthea is a BAMF, F/M, Flower Language, Pre-Season/Series 03, anthea is a perfect cinnamon roll who can do no wrong, in which the authors are a dick to mycroft, mummy holmes is my favorite, mycroft is a legit asshole here, mycroft learns from his mistakes eventually, secondary f/f, this will have a happy ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-18
Updated: 2018-02-16
Packaged: 2019-02-03 19:05:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 14
Words: 51,631
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12754344
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mycahthelittlehobbit/pseuds/mycahthelittlehobbit, https://archiveofourown.org/users/voxangelus/pseuds/voxangelus
Summary: Mycroft Holmes might be the British Government, but he's also kind of a dick.





	1. Pink Roses and Dwarf Sunflowers

**Author's Note:**

> Upfront warning: the story began life as an RP that we wrote furiously in about two weeks pre series 3. This is the only time I've ever been on Nanowrimo pace in my life! Thus, you will notice perspective shifts. In my editing, I've done my best to make them smooth. 
> 
> There will be descriptions of violence against a major character. They are mildly graphic.
> 
> It is complete!!!! at approximately 52K words, and chapters will post weekly on Friday nights.

_Anthea,_

_Clear my schedule from 7pm onward on the Tuesday, Thursday, and Saturday of the upcoming conference in Torino. I don't care who you have to put off or reschedule to do it. In addition, I will need a reservation for two each specified evening at 8pm, any three of the city's top restaurants will do. You may have those evenings off to do as you please._

_Ring the hotel and confirm my reservation for the Paramount suite along with the Princess suite next door for your own use, and confirm ground transportation from the airport._

_-M_

_[SMS] Done. – A_

 

Mycroft glanced down at his phone as it beeped, sending a quick reply before returning to his lunch discussion with Harry.

"Really, Mycroft - when are you going to stop messing about and settle down? It hasn't killed me! Don’t you think you’re getting too old for this playboy nonsense?"

"It hasn't killed you because you were born to be a family man, my friend," Mycroft replied, sitting back in his chair. "Whereas I was quite clearly not."

Harry merely snorted - it was true, but only because that was how Mycroft had chosen to arrange his life. Harry couldn’t fault Mycroft’s professional behavior and how he got things done, but his personal pursuits certainly left something to be desired. The rest of their lunch passed in light, jovial conversation, and soon Mycroft was headed back across town to his offices.  

Anthea had spent part of her morning organizing Mr. Holmes' 'days off' while at the conference.  Most likely he was going to be picking up some beautiful, well-heeled woman, wine and dine her for the evening, take her back to his room, and give her a wild night before sending her off packing in the morning, giving her Anthea's number if anything came up. It was a more than a bit horrible, and she had had to clean up more of his messes than he was aware. She still wasn’t precisely sure why she kept doing it.

She had worked through lunch, eating a quick energy bar before Mr. Holmes returned to the office from his lunch with the equerry.

 

Mycroft strode into his office, shaking the rain from his brolly in the foyer before folding it loosely. "Skies opened up just as I was exiting the car," he said by way of explanation to Anthea. "I'll be pleased to see some sun next week even if it'll be from conference room windows."

"I'm sure, sir," Anthea stood and followed him into his office, "Here are the reports that you need to go over before we leave for Torino, and this is a file of the restaurants that you have reservations for," she handed everything over to him, then waited to see if he had anything else to say before she left his presence.

"Thank you," Mycroft murmured, taking the files from her and laying them on his desk. "Make one more dinner reservation for tonight if you would - wherever you think will annoy Sherlock most," he said, by way of dismissal as he began to look through the paperwork.

Anthea almost wanted to laugh and tell him to do it himself as Sherlock was his brother, not hers. But this was her job, so she went out to her desk and started looking up the most pretentious French restaurant she could find, then made reservations for two for Mycroft and Sherlock at seven that evening.

 

Mycroft was rather pleased with Anthea's choice of restaurant as it kept Sherlock off-balance the entire evening, and he was able to ferret out much more information than was usually forthcoming. He had his driver stop at his florist's on the way into the office the next morning, procuring a lovely bouquet of deep pink roses mixed with dwarf sunflowers arranged in a vase, which he carried in and placed on her desk.

 

When Anthea came in the next morning, just a few minutes behind Mr. Holmes, she saw a vase of flowers on her desk. It was a pretty arrangement, and assuming that it was from a certain man, she whipped out her phone and searched for the meaning of the flowers that he had given her. Well, at least it was appropriate. And a nice, if ultimately backhanded, way to thank her for her efforts.

Mycroft had gone directly to his desk to do his last-minute prep for the conference. He was still deep in said files when Anthea came in to bring his tea around eleven. "I'm going to work through lunch, could you order something?" he asked, barely glancing up from his paperwork.

Anthea set his tea down, watching him for a moment.  He worked with dedication when he wanted to, and she supposed that that gave him some leeway to have his fun even if she disliked the way that he had it, "I shall have it here on time, sir," she murmured, walking out of his office. Once she returned to her desk, she phoned the local cafe that was acceptable and ordered lunch for the two of them, then went back to her own conference prep.

Mycroft worked straight through lunch, not even really registering what exactly was on the sandwich that Anthea brought him. By the time he looked up from the files and paperwork again, the sun was low in the sky and it was almost six in the evening. He packed the papers away into his briefcase and retrieved his coat and brolly from the closet, heading out of his office.

"I'm gone for the night," he announced, standing in front of Anthea’s desk. "What time shall I expect the car in the morning - I presume you have the final flight plans?"

Anthea had stayed in the office, working on paperwork for Mr. Holmes, ensuring that he had everything that he needed for that day and anything for the next coming weeks that he would need or want.  That was what she did, made sure that he was well prepared for everything,

"The car will arrive at your home at 6:45 and go straight to the airport from there, Mr. Holmes.  I shall see you then," she answered him promptly, still planning on being in the office for another hour or so to finish a few things before they left for their week at the conference.

"Thank you, Anthea - excellent work, as usual," he replied, heading out to the waiting car. She really was the most remarkably efficient of personal assistants he'd had, quite clever, an excellent shot, and well, he had to admit she was more than easy on the eyes, which was a bonus - considering the amount of time he spent in her company. Once he arrived at his home, he cooked himself a simple supper, then finalized his packing; his housekeeper had done most of it that morning, but she always left the small details to him - ties, cufflinks, pocket squares. He was in bed by ten with a book, and his light was off by midnight.

 

Everything in the office prepared and ready for their trip, Anthea packed away her case of files that would be needed and locked up the office before driving home.  She ate a small, quick dinner, finishing up her packing of suitable dresses and suits to wear while on their trip, throwing in a couple more casual ones in case she did decide to take a little time off and walk around the city during the day or go out to a bar one night. One never did know what would happen, and she did like to be prepared for any eventuality.

After she was done, it was time for an early bed so that she could be up early in the morning, do her workout routine, then be showered and ready to go with Mr. Holmes' breakfast by 6:45 outside of his home. At least she was paid handsomely for her trouble, far above the going rate for a mere personal assistant. Small comforts, knowing she’d be fielding phone calls from jilted lovers for the next month after this. Maybe it was time to start thinking seriously about moving on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pink Roses and Dwarf Sunflowers: Admiration


	2. Southernwood and Venus Fly Trap

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They arrive in Torino for the conference. Mycroft catches up with an old friend. Anthea is noticed. And what are the Americans up to?

Mycroft rose at five the next morning, working his way first through a pilates routine and then the shower. He was dressed and ready by six-fifteen, his cases waiting by the door, giving him just enough time to enjoy a cup of tea before Anthea arrived along with the car for their drive to the airport. The conference afforded many opportunities for both business and pleasure, and he meant to enjoy every one.

Anthea stayed in the car while she sent the driver to collect Mr. Holmes and all of his things to the car for their departure. She had her own cup of coffee in her hand, the other tapping away at her phone, "Good morning Mr. Holmes," she greeted softly when he slid into the car next to her. They had a short two hour flight ahead of them, then a long day of meetings before they would be free at seven that evening. She had worn a slightly form fitting skirt, one that would grant her movement, and a blouse top. It would travel well, and still look becoming as far as professionality and appeal went.

"Anthea," Mycroft said by way of greeting as he settled into the seat, briefcase across his lap. He was impeccably dressed in a navy suit with a subtle grey pinstripe, accompanied by a red tie, hair slicked back as usual. He turned his gaze on her for a moment, giving an approving nod to her ensemble. Soon enough they were at the private hangar from which their plane would depart, and it was only a matter of moments to get them and their luggage settled onto the small jet.

For as much as Mr. Holmes was constantly chasing a tail in pretty skirt, it gave Anthea mixed feelings that he had never come onto her. She usually brushed it off as his professionalism, but sometimes she wondered if at times like this, when he gave her the approving nod, he would pursue her for a one night stand if their situations were different. It was silly, and she would never want that in reality. His attitude towards women quite offended her, she would rather die before being caught up with a man like Mycroft Holmes.

Mycroft was perusing the morning edition of the Financial Times and sipping his coffee as the plane took off, but he happened to glance over at Anthea and was momentarily struck by the vision of the rosy light of the sunrise illuminating her face and making a golden halo around her hair. He so rarely saw her at ease with a real smile that he almost let himself be caught staring - but he turned back to his paper and coffee just in the nick of time (or so he hoped). He didn't need to get all soppy over his PA, not when he had three very promising dates in the coming week.

When they reached cruising altitude, Anthea finally looked over to Mr. Holmes to see him engrossed in his coffee and paper while they had taken off. He was handsome in a strange sort of way, one which she did not find necessarily her taste, but she could understand the appeal.

Sighing, she pulled out a few files for herself to catch up on as they flew to Torino.

The flight was uneventful, and Mycroft used the time to update himself on the changes in personal lives of the other diplomats and officials he'd be dealing with at the conference; the personal touch - or at least, what seemed like it - put people at ease, and people at ease were easier to manipulate and steer the way he wanted.

When they finally landed, Anthea was ready for them to spearhead this conference in the direction that they wanted it to go, her a half step behind Mr. Holmes the entire way through. Standing as soon as they were able, Anthea made sure that all of their things were gathered and then followed Mr. Holmes off of the jet.

Mycroft stopped just before the door of the jet, turning to speak to her. "Opening plenary isn't until three, and it's just gone eight. Let's convene in the sitting room of my suite and go over today's plan of attack. The Greeks and the Germans need to come to some sort of agreement on finance and that is our main goal this week, with the situation developing in Spain our secondary priority." He smiled. "I have no doubt we'll get everything taken care of to Queen and Country's satisfaction," he added, before exiting the aircraft and descending the steps to the tarmac and their waiting car.

Anthea nodded, looking up briefly when he addressed her then quickly opening up a note in her phone to keep a running record for the day. There was not so much for her to do, rather she needed to keep track of all the goings on for him, then they would review at the end of the day before retiring for the evenings. That way Mr. Holmes kept on schedule for his agenda and didn't have to keep constant tabs on everything.

The driver pulled out onto the highway that would take them into the centre of town where their hotel was located. The conference hotel, a dressed-up chain location, was a few blocks away from the hotel where they would be staying; Mycroft was not impressed with the conference hotel's security and privacy measures for registered guests. The drive was lovely, taking them through pretty patches of farmland for a few miles before the outskirts of the city popped up. The car stopped in front of the Palace Hotel and they were ushered in with utmost courtesy and speed.

Anthea directed their bags to the correct rooms, having had checked them in on the way to the hotel. The concierge was waiting to hand her the keys as soon as they arrived.

"I'll just go to my room and freshen up momentarily. I shall be over in ten minutes," she informed him, giving both of them time to settle in before they set off on a whirlwind day.

Mycroft got settled in and was waiting for Anthea when the ten minutes were up in the sitting room of his suite, having made a pot of tea with the supplies laid by the hotel to his specifications. She ought to have a key card to his door if the hotel had done everything correctly; they tended to use his suite's common areas as a war room during these sort of events.

It took her five minutes to settle her things down, two to check her appearance then another two to gather what she would need to set up their little war room in Mr. Holmes' sitting room before she proceeded to go over and knock quietly before letting herself in, "Ready, sir," she said, going to the sofa and sitting down, starting to spread out a few files for them to reference.

"Excellent," he replied, beckoning her in. Mycroft had a laptop open on the coffee table for cross-referencing as they went over the files, figuring out various plans of attack. He was once again grateful for Anthea's efficiency and intelligence as they worked together. "Now here, the Greek Minister of Finance is new to his job and I doubt he expects to last a month with the way things have been going there. He's competent and I want him in as long as we can keep him. Here are the players we'll need to influence to make that happen."

She kept up with taking meticulous notes on his dictations, following along with his every reason for making a decision and hardly ever having to stop to ask him to repeat himself. When they had first begun, it was quite a lot of her being nervous to question him on a point and much of him trying to be an overbearing boss. They quickly worked out that that was not the right working relationship, so Anthea became more quietly assertive and Mycroft much more appreciative of her dedication to their work.

Mycroft turned to the conference itinerary, wrinkling his nose. "They're giving a ball on Saturday night. That is a problem." He had a date on Saturday night, with the very creative and flexible Portuguese minister for foreign affairs. She was as ruthless with her lovers as he tended to be with his, and they had similar appetites, making time to get together at any international event they both attended. He did not want to waste what little time he had with Therese at a required conference event.

"Attend the ball briefly before your date?" she suggested, a bit uncomfortable that he would bring up his extra curricular activities to her on this topic. It only posed another issue for her to clean up in the future.

"If I must," he muttered. He would have to call Therese and find out her opinion on the matter. "I think that ought to have us set for today and most of tomorrow, unless you have any other concerns?"

She reviewed the information quickly, finding nothing at fault, "I shall simply be posted wherever you would like me throughout the conference, Mr. Holmes. Or else, I think that everything else is in order," Anthea smiled at him, "Happy hunting, sir."

Mycroft laughed, picking up his teacup and taking it into the kitchen. Upon returning, he replied, "Happy hunting indeed. I have every confidence things will go our way without any trouble. Let's have you just circulate around where the lower level secretaries and assistants are gathered this afternoon; get the lay of the land and what the gossips are saying."

"Of course, that should be amusing," she smirked, it was one of her favorite jobs. She would dress pretty and unassuming, be open and wide eyed, chat with the other women and flirt with any of the men who were there. They were all so eager to dish out the dirt on their bosses, and Anthea was always there to slyly take it in and pass it on to her Mr. Holmes to give them the advantage in the conference.

Mycroft returned the smirk, gathering papers into his briefcase before ushering Anthea to the door. "Best of luck, my dear. I have my equivalents to contend with this afternoon. Shall we do dinner up here and go over the day, or would you rather eat on your own?"

"A working dinner sounds like a lovely idea," she nodded to him as she exited his rooms to return to hers, "Shall I pre order us something for dinner, or we can do room service when we return," she started planning in her head.

"Room service is fine, or we can order takeaway. I'm not sure what I'll want later," Mycroft decided, pulling the suite's door closed and stepping into the small corridor that served the two suites they were staying in. He pressed the down button for the private elevator and waited a moment as the car came up from the lobby. "I'm sure I don't need to remind you that this is likely the most important of these events we've attended since you came into my employ - I am sure you will acquit yourself admirably."

"Of course sir," she nodded, following him into the elevator and watching her phone carefully once more. All she had with her now was a small bag that had a few necessities in it, and her phone that was locked to anyone but her and held all relevant information pertaining to this conference and it was where she would take notes on the other PA's that she talked with today. The elevator stopped and the two of them exited into the lobby, then into the waiting car to take them to the other hotel.

The conference was milling with what to the outside world was mid-level governmental representatives from all over the world, but many of the most important policy decisions of the year would be made here in the next week. Mycroft parted ways with Anthea in the hotel lobby and headed to his pre-conference ‘networking event’, which in reality was a closed-door meeting of himself and his closest equivalents who were attending the conference.

Anthea meandered around, there was not much for her and her kind to do but to wait at their bosses beck and calls, and to gossip. Most liked to complain about their employers, or tell juicy details about their countries and government officials. She picked up a cup of coffee, going to join a group of three women who she recognized from previous countries.

It didn't take Mycroft long to take the meeting in hand; the US had a new representative who was especially precious and thought she would be in charge. He put paid to her notion all the while assuring her it had nothing to do with her gender, but her seniority. He laid out the week's agenda quickly and had them all off with their assignments for the week in time for the opening plenary at three.

Anthea had found out an interesting little tidbit about the representative from Portugal being engaged, yet apparently she still had a date planned with Mycroft this Saturday. She wondered if she should pass the information on or simply keep it to herself. Most of the other PA's only had dull little bits of information to give up, but she knew by the end of the week they would all be 'thick as thieves' and someone would have something good to dish out to her.

Mycroft passed through the lobby, looking for Anthea. When he spotted her, he beckoned her over, "With me, Miss Jones," he called. He would never behave like this back in their office - it was all just part of the game as they preferred to play it. His seemingly callous treatment would win her sympathy points with the other PAs.

Anthea gave a sheepish smile to the other PAs and walked to where Mr. Holmes was, then went with him where they would not be overheard, "How did your meeting go Mr. Holmes?" she asked when they were out of earshot and nearly out of everyone's sight.

"Splendidly, thank you. Keep a check on my American counterpart's assistants, won't you? She seemed manageable enough, but you know how these Americans are at times, such grandiose ideas and brash ways of attempting to attain their goals," he murmured as they walked down a sparsely populated corridor, taking a side door into the large ballroom where the opening plenary would be held.

"I will keep an extra eye on her, then," Anthea nodded, making a mental note and shifting through faces in her head to fix the American's in her mind's eye, "Did the Portuguese representative mention her upcoming nuptials? Her PA was quite happy to spread the word about her."

"She did, yes. Marriage of convenience, I'm given to understand; funds or trusts or land entitlements, something along those lines," Mycroft replied, leading them to two seats at the end of the back row. "The day that woman actually settles down will be the day I do - and it won't be with each other."

"Of course." She didn't need to look after him, he didn't really need her to meddle in those parts of his life anyways, although how would he feel if he knew how often she cleaned up those messes for him. They sat primly in their seats, much like those two popular kids who always sat in the back of classes. Everyone eventually filed in around them, and Anthea put faces to names to relationships as they all sat with their respective Employer and PA. She needed to know all of this in case Mycroft had any questions later.

Mycroft only half-paid attention to the opening speeches - he heard them, and filed them away for later - and instead, like Anthea, observed their fellow attendees. His American counterpart kept trying to catch his eye - pity he already had all of his free evenings full. He despised grasping women like her, eager to get by on their sexuality and looks instead of using the asset he was most interested in - their intelligence. Perhaps a broom closet would suffice to impart a lesson or two. He supposed that was why he got on so well with Therese. She was a handsome woman, to be sure, but she was sharp as a tack and not given to sentimental displays - and it was certainly why he'd kept Anthea on for as long as he had.

Mycroft did as he normally did, observing the crowd for how to play the conference rather than paying attention to the speeches. Undoubtedly he'd leave here and be able to have a full conversation about them with some of the leading dignitaries. She sighed and looked ahead, playing the part of the hard working PA to the overbearing Mr. Holmes. Anthea was glancing over the crowd once more when a ruggedly handsome man sitting across the room caught her eye with a grin and wink. She averted her eyes quickly and pretended to pay attention to the speeches while figuring out who that was.

If she thought he hadn't caught that ape winking at her, Anthea had another think coming. Surely she had better taste than that. Still, not his concern - she was only his PA, and she could spend her evenings off any way she liked. The speaker was unusually long-winded and full of waffle - and he was learning much from those who were fidgeting. Eventually the speeches wound down and the conference adjourned until the following morning.

"More mingling, sir?" Anthea turned to him for their next move, completely ignoring the man who was slowly making his way towards them. There was a whole week that he could follow up with her, she would ignore him and make him have some more style than that.

"Cocktail reception, I think - forty-five minutes at most, then we'll make our exit back to our hotel. I do believe the German contingent is also staying over there; they were rather put out the two best suites had already been reserved," Mycroft replied, amusement in his tone, "nicely done in snapping them up right away, I do so love getting under Kendig's skin. Give yourself a raise when we return home, won't you?"

A raise, for simply getting one up on the German contingent. That was both nice, and ridiculous. She nodded, planning to do so though, she deserved it for other reasons anyways, "If I had known that we were doing cocktails I would have worn more appropriate attire," she said dryly.

"Everyone else is in business attire; it's a generic Marriott, not the Ritz," Mycroft scoffed, glancing over her head. "Hark, the women you were speaking with earlier approacheth. Off you pop and discover what you can, then." The words were, perhaps, a bit condescending, but he delivered them with a wicked smirk - teasing.

"Enjoy, sir," she rolled her eyes where he could see then walked away from him, briskly but happily. Anthea sought out the other PAs that she was working on befriending and was a bit satisfied to see the man who winked at her was in the opposite direction and busy with someone else. Conspiringly she questioned one of them who he was, and there was an immediate flutter of activity as the three PAs started to pull Anthea towards cocktails and gossip about the heartthrob that was the dignitary from Romania.

Mycroft, for his part, went off toward the German contingent, greeting them cheerfully in knowing he'd got at least one thing they wanted and was working on a laundry list of others. The Americans joined them soon after, although as he suspected they had little to add to the conversation. The blatant flirtation from Ms Adams was becoming bothersome, but he couldn't risk alienating her so soon into the week. He played along only so far as to keep her off-balance, delighted when his Portuguese friend came over to say hello.

The women sat her in a chair and surrounded her, everyone holding cocktails (Anthea had managed to get hers with little alcohol in it to keep her head as they socialized), and they were regaining her with stories of Antony Ragnar, the handsome, athletic and generous diplomat from Romania that everyone was half in love with, "He has not climbed Mount Everest, that is ridiculous," she scoffed loudly then pursed her lips when the telling silence around her begged the answer that he was standing behind her.

 

Mycroft chatted briefly with Therese in her native tongue, nothing passing between them that would mark them as having been anything but friendly acquaintances who were catching up after a few months between meetings. He noticed the young man who'd been eyeing Anthea up earlier making his way over to where she sat with a few of the other assistants.

"The pretty boy, happen to know who he is?" he asked her quietly.

"Romanian attache for cultural affairs," Therese replied. "He's apparently quite the catch - looks as though he's got his eye on _your Anthea_." Her tone on the last two words implied a great deal.

"She isn't _my_ Anthea," Mycroft hissed, "Not in that fashion."

Therese chuckled. "More's the pity for you. I doubt I could keep my hands off her if she were in my employ."

 

Anthea turned, "Mr. Ragnar, I'm embarrassed. The other ladies were telling me about you and your many achievements," she smiled charmingly up at him.

"Well, if you'd like to have a first hand account, I would love to have dinner," he had his hands in his pocket, his voice light and easy on the ears, "That is, if you can get away from the infamous Mycroft Holmes?"

"I shall have to see if I'm free for the evening, Mr. Ragnar," Anthea was quite charmed by his open expression and easy going posture. Perhaps she would accept. After some coaxing.

"Well, here is my number should you like to join me this evening," he pulled out a small notebook and pen to write his number down and then meander away with a slight smirk.

 

"I tried that with my last PA. Ended badly. Anthea's too good at this. She could easily have moved up and on by now but I'm pleased she hasn't. She makes my life very easy," Mycroft explained, taking a sip of his whisky.

Therese nodded. "Ah, I see what you mean," she murmured, then leaned a bit closer. "Are we still on for Saturday? We can toast to my impending nuptials."

"My plans remain unchanged," Mycroft confirmed, "Although we'll have to make an appearance at the ball. Whose idiot idea was that?"

"You can't figure it out? Her tits and hair extensions have been staring you in the face all afternoon," Therese said, amused.

"Ahhh, our little American friend. I'm debating making her cry sometime later in the week. It's been ever so long since I made one of them cry."

 

The other PAs were all gossiping hard about her date with Mr Ragnar, and she could have killed him for making her stick out. That just meant that she would have to be particularly open and interesting to her counter parts. She smiled and played along with the others, dropping in a few little comments about her 'overbearing' boss and being unsure if he would let her out that evening. Forty minutes later she excused herself for a 'restroom' break and meandered out into the lobby of the hotel.

 

Mycroft had since ended his conversation with Therese and spent the time meandering from group to group, greeting familiar faces and getting introductions to new ones. He glanced at his watch and made his excuses - early morning, you know how it is - and met Anthea out in the lobby.

"I see you made a new friend," he said neutrally, hands in the pockets of his trousers as he waited for the car to pull around.

"I made several," he had no need to comment on her personal life if she decided to take a man up on his offer to dinner. Absolutely no right. "How did you feel about the opening day, sir?" She questioned as they slid back into the car together.

"Productive, at least as far as laying the groundwork," he replied, settling into his seat for the short drive to their hotel. "Did you find out anything terribly interesting?"

"Sadly, no, though I am gaining ground in befriending a group of ladies. They should prove to have some good dirt on their employers," she informed him, standing from the car when they arrived and walking towards their elevator.

He walked alongside, nodding as she spoke. When they reached the elevator, he inserted his card key and the doors opened for them. "After you, my dear," he murmured, gesturing to her. "I hope your efforts prove fruitful, then. As there's not much to go over, why don't you take the evening off? I'm sure I can manage ordering a meal on my own," he quipped.

The elevator started rising as she spoke. "If you have nothing for us to do, I think that this shall be good evening," the doors opened and they stepped out, "Have a good evening Mr. Holmes, I shall see you in the morning," Anthea walked towards her door after a cordial good evening to him.

Mycroft stood at the elevator until Anthea was safely into her room, as was his habit when they were abroad, then went into his own. It had been an enlightening day and he wanted nothing more than dinner, a drink, and an early night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Southernwood: teasing, banter  
> Venus Flytrap: deceit


	3. Crown Imperial and Hydrangea

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The conference continues. The American representative certainly seems to be an idiot. Anthea has two dates with the handsome Romanian attache for Cultural Affairs. Mycroft has one date that doesn't go quite as planned.

As soon as Anthea got to her room, she teasingly texted Antony and started getting ready for dinner. It wouldn't do to let him think that she was too eager to have dinner with him. Besides, he would just be a fun date or perhaps a fling, for the week - then they'd go their separate ways. Mycroft would be fine tonight, and she'd be sure to be ready early in the morning as usual.

Mycroft perused the room service menu and put his order in, changing into his pyjamas in the meantime, his dressing gown over top. Unless his deductive skills were rusty (which he knew they were not), his PA had a date with the pretty boy Romanian attache - well, good for her. Hopefully she was sensible enough to realize these little conference romances never held up - he'd given the brush-off to enough women who got all sorts of long-term ideas from one or two passionate nights. 

Anthea woke alone in her bed the next morning, just as she'd gone to sleep after having a lovely evening out with Antony. It had been full of laughter, story swapping, and him walking her to her hotel and kissing her goodbye. A complete gentleman and an invitation for dinner again the next night if she was free and would like to. With a smile teasing the corner of her mouth, she knocked on Mr. Holmes' door to begin their day.

Mycroft answered the door, already fully dressed but for his tie with a cup of coffee in his hand. "Good morning," he greeted, beckoning her in. Three ties laid over the arm of the sofa. "I couldn't decide on a tie. I have to deal with that pain-in-the-arse American woman most of the morning and I don't especially want her thinking my tie brings out my eyes. Which one's the least likely to do so?"

"The yellow, I should think will do well," Anthea made a quick decision for him and picked it up, turning to him and sliding it up and around his collar, tying it for him efficiently, "This should do, makes you suitably unattractive for your time spent with her, though not wholly unappealing," she nodded, moving to the sofa to take up her usual position for their morning review.

"I knew I could rely on you, my dear," Mycroft said, straightening the tie and tucking into his waistcoat before sitting across from her on the other sofa, going over what they needed to accomplish that morning. He had to work on securing funding from Germany and France for Greece, and preventing the United States from pushing their agenda too far; their policies were not in line with his vision, and his vision was paramount. 

Anthea took note, planning on targeting those people who worked for the stated countries to find anything that would give Mr. Holmes the upper hand. Especially when it came to the Americans. It seemed like he truly wanted to snub their representative in any way that he could.

"I've been in contact with my previous American counterpart overnight," Mycroft said, as they were wrapping up. "Apparently I need to change my habits. He was quite put out by the fact that he was made to stay home from this particular conference because the powers-that-be over his head think I can be swayed by a pretty face - so I'm stuck dealing with a simpering twit instead of a sensible person upon whose behaviour I can rely," he muttered. 

Anthea sure had a lot to say on that topic to further what the American had to say, but she would not, "That is unfortunate, and I'm sure that you will love parading it in their face when they are proven wrong," she encouraged lightly. If he 'dealt' with the twit the way he normally did, it would mean much more work for her than was her pay. Even with the coming raise.

"Well, of course they're wrong. Still, it's something to think about," he said, rising from the sofa. "Perhaps a change in plans for this evening and Friday," he murmured, mostly to himself, as he gathered his things together. Being metaphorically smacked in the face by his foibles had brought him up short, and he was still reeling a bit.

Anthea stood and gathered what would be necessary for the day, taking it with her as they rode the lift to the lobby and their car. Whether Mr Holmes decided to change his plans or not had very little to do with her, and she wasn't about to give it any further thought. 

Mycroft followed her down to the car, deep in thought for the last few moments he had before needing to be focused on the day's work. He had been looking forward to his date this evening, but gaining the knowledge that he'd shown predictable behaviour with which others could pigeonhole him had almost completely ruined his anticipation. The woman he was seeing tonight was local and had been vetted by an agency specializing in this sort of thing for the elite and had nothing to do with the conference at all, yet this gave him little ease. 

Anthea slid into the car first, pulling out her phone and checking her messages. She tried not to smile when she saw that Antony sent her a sweet good morning message. She didn't send one back, and schooled her features to prepare herself for today. If Mr. Holmes was being targeted for his proclivities to seek out female companionship, perhaps she should look into that as well. Ask around the Americans what their agenda was, and how much she should watch out for the ‘twit’ that they had leading them.

Mycroft used the car ride to focus on putting his personal issues aside and taking on the mantle of Mycroft Holmes, Your Worst Nightmare (yet the most charming nightmare you've ever had). By the time they made it to the conference hotel, he was fully ensconced in that character and ready to face the day. 

They arrived at the hotel a few minutes later, both exiting and going to their respective places. Mycroft to his American nuisance, and Anthea to the waiting gaggle of PAs. As soon as she entered the room, three women were on her about the date last night, and a few others were listening in nearby. She blushed and told them about it quietly, then started subtly manipulating the conversation towards what she needed.

Mycroft strode into the secure boardroom, settling himself at the head of the table. The rest of the attendees trickled in over the next few minutes. After they were all seated, he stood and began to speak. 

"We have four days to hammer out this agreement. If we're sensible, it can be done today. If we aren't, I am fully capable and willing to make it stretch as long as possible. Torino is a beautiful city and I'm sure Mr Miorelli here would love for you to spend tourist dollars in his nation instead of spending time cooped up in this boardroom. Let's get to work."

"Pardon, but why do you get to decide what goes on here? Are we not all equals?" Adams, the American, asked. Various scoffs and sniggers could be heard around the table at her audacity.

Mycroft turned a steely gaze on her, an eyebrow raised. "Yes, and I am first among them. Attend a few more international events and you'll better understand the lay of the land. Do you have anything useful to put forward?" 

A few minutes later, everyone started trickling into their first seminar by one of the older Personal Assistants, and she was there to give some sort of motivational speech about the work they did. Anthea only half listened, watching the other women and few men in the room to see what they were doing. The PA of that Adams woman was sitting alone, off to the side. After the seminar broke for a few minutes, Anthea went over to the other woman and introduced herself, "Hello, my name is Anthea."  
The other woman looked a bit startled that someone would talk to her. "Oh, hello, I'm Jennifer. Interesting speech, wasn't it?"  
"Ah, yes," Anthea turned to look around the room. "I was wondering if you'd like to join some of us for lunch? We were thinking about going somewhere close by to get some local cuisine."  
"Oh, thank you for the offer but I really should be going and checking on my employer," the mousy woman scurried towards the exit of the room, and Anthea was left watching after her, wondering if there was more going on from the American group than simply a sexualized power play.

Ms Adams shook her head and sat back down, but Mycroft could tell she was less than pleased at his answer and he'd have to watch out for her going rogue. 

He laid out the agenda and what they needed to have happen, then the real work started. By lunch, several excellent discussions had taken place and alternative plans had been put forth. 

Anthea went to her lunch, sending a message to Mr. Holmes that Ms. Adams assistant seemed uncomfortable and shifty, and wouldn't join her and a few others for lunch. She was just turning and looking for her group when she was intercepted by a long, firm, and fit body. "Antony, hello."

"Hello Anthea, I was wondering if I might solicit your company for lunch today?" His smile was smooth and easy going.

"I'm sorry, I have plans with the others already, perhaps tomorrow?" She quickly dismissed the idea of not going with them in favor of better company, but she was no Mycroft Holmes.

"Dinner then, tonight?" His eyes were bright and hopeful.

"If I'm free, yes." He was a bit pushy, but she didn’t mind too much. "I should go find my people, I will talk to you later." She smiled at him quickly before striding away towards the waiting tangle of women.

Mycroft read the text from Anthea as he was gathering his things to find his own lunch. Interesting. He brushed by the American woman as he left the boardroom, not letting her see that he'd taken any notice of her at all - but she was clearly expecting something, from the way she was posed. 

He met Therese and a couple of others from the Portuguese delegation for lunch at a nearby trattoria, and enjoyed the animated conversation and an excellent torta with roasted vegetables. He excused himself, ostensibly to go to the men's room, but in reality, he was confirming his plans for the evening through the matchmaking agency.

He couldn't quite shake the feeling that something wasn't right about the American delegation, but he tried not to let it bother him as he headed back for the afternoon's negotiations.

Lunch was fun and quick, and lead straight into her next seminar. Anthea made a point to sit next to the American woman, smiling kindly at her and watched her discreetly through the entire speech and all of the questions. When they finally broke for the day, Anthea stood and followed the American out of the room, silently shadowing her for a while and watched her go off into the elevators up to where her delegations rooms were, she supposed. With a shake of her head, she turned and found a good place to observe the busy lobby from.

The afternoon went well, and Mycroft was hopeful they would wrap everything up the next morning, despite Ms Adams' apparent either disinterest in or ignorance of the deals that needed to be made. He wasn't sure he'd ever encountered a bigger idiot and he was sorely missing her predecessor. Still, there was nothing to be done for it. He had gotten confirmation of his date for the evening and he was rather looking forward to it as he made his way into the lobby, glancing around for Anthea. 

Anthea watched the lobby for some time from her corner, going unnoticed by Antony as he exited his seminar and looked around before joining a conversation with his friends. He discreetly sent a message to someone on his phone and she grinned when her phone made a confirming buzzing. She was about to message back when she saw Mycroft enter the lobby, looking around, ready to leave. She moved from her corner and went to him, throwing a small glance at Antony before following Mr. Holmes to their car.

"So," Mycroft said, as the car pulled away from the kerb, "Did you find anything interesting about our American friends? I don't think much of their head delegate. I don't think she knew a thing about international policy before they tapped her for this event. I'm insulted that I have to deal with such an idiot-" he glanced down at his phone as it buzzed, "-and now this business with the Egyptian president being overthrown; it's been coming for a while, but the exact timing is inconvenient." 

Only Mycroft would find freedom fighters inconvenient. 

"Of course, sir," she nodded, remembering hearing something about it on the news and made a note that she needed to do some reading tonight... or earlier this evening before dinner. It was rare that she allowed herself a dalliance while on the job, but she found Antony fascinating and genuine. She had sent him a message saying that she was interested in dinner tonight, especially if her boss was going to be out himself.  
"Do you still plan on continuing with your evening's agenda?" If she was needed, she would make do. Perhaps she needed to spend some time doing a background check on the Americans that were here for this event.

Mycroft was gazing out the window and didn't quite catch Anthea's question. It wasn't like him to be so distracted. "Hmm? Oh, yes, of course. I'll be heading out for dinner in about an hour - you have the evening to yourself, as planned." he replied. Was she seeing the Romanian again? Ah well, it was none of his concern. 

Anthea nodded, setting her dinner time for a bit before then, wanting to have a good amount of time with Antony before she left him to go back to her hotel room. She would plan to be back early to ensure that everything was settled and she would be able to be up and ready to do damage control in the morning for Mr. Holmes.

The car pulled up to their hotel and they made their way up in the private elevator, parting ways when they reached the upper foyer. Mycroft stripped out of the staid, stuffy suit he'd worn for business that day and climbed into the shower, letting the spray wash away the day's annoyances. He wrapped a towel loosely around his waist and stood at the mirror before the sink to shave before going to his closet and selecting a far more fashionable suit for his evening out; jet black with a emerald waistcoat and tie. Pleased with how he looked, he spritzed himself with cologne, made sure his pockets and wallet contained everything he might need, and headed out to the elevator. 

Anthea didn't bother with a shower, simply refreshing her hair into a nice set of clips to pull it flatteringly away from her face. She slipped out of her skirt and blouse from work and pulled on a solid colored dress that accented her hips well. Antony was coming in twenty minutes, so she took the remaining time to pull up a few reports on Egypt to read through before she left her room for the elevator. She was standing there waiting for it when Mr. Holmes entered the foyer, "Good evening," she nodded to him, a bit self conscious in a slightly more revealing dress than he had ever seen her in.

"Good evening, Anthea," Mycroft replied with a perfectly professional smile, taking in her appearance. "You look lovely - I trust you have a pleasant evening planned." The elevator doors opened and he gestured for her to precede him, following her in and pressing the button for the lobby. 

"Thank you sir, I do," she was not quite willing to give way her plans to him. She enjoyed her privacy quite a bit, even with someone that she worked so closely with. Giving him a thin smile when they reached the lobby, Anthea walked swiftly out of the elevator and smiled to the waiting Antony when she saw him, not giving Mr. Holmes a backwards glance.

Mycroft offered Antony a polite half-smile before heading out to his waiting car, which would take him to the restaurant to meet his date. Caterina was supposed to be twenty-nine, intelligent, and quite beautiful - the middle daughter of a prominent Italian political family. She supposedly spoke fluent English, but Mycroft also spoke excellent Italian - so either way, they would find things to talk about. 

"I did not realize that the rumors about Mr. Holmes predilections were true," Antony commented as they walked out of the hotel lobby and turned down the road. They walked closely together, not touching, as they searched for a good place to have dinner together.

"I make a point not to concern myself with his private affairs too much," she shook her head lightly and smiled up to him, "Now I think that you promised me a good story about a trip you took up to Alaska of the United States?" She detested that even when she was out with a good man, one that she quite liked, Mr. Holmes managed to worm his way into her life.

 

Mycroft met his date at the restaurant - and while she was indeed lovely and intelligent, she was definitely not twenty-nine, nor was her name Caterina. Vivania was not-quite-eighteen, extremely precocious, and Caterina was her older sister whose photo she had stolen. 

There were some lines he was unwilling to cross. He wished Vivania well among her protests, but put her in his own car and sent her home. As he still had reservations and had to eat in any case, he decided to have dinner solo. He was just tucking into his appetizer when a gorgeous woman sitting alone at the bar caught his eye. He sent her a drink, and she came to personally thank him. Rosamaria was her name, and she had been stood up by her date. Mycroft explained his own date-related woes, and before he knew it they were still talking over espresso three hours later, discreetly playing footsie under the table. 

"Ah, look at the time," Mycroft exclaimed. "Perhaps you'd like to continue our conversation at my hotel?" 

Rosamaria licked her lips, tossing the long waves of her russet hair over her shoulder. "I would like that very much," she purred, trailing her fingertips over the back of his hand. 

He called for the bill and they were soon in the car, headed back to the hotel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Crown Imperial - power  
> Hydrangea - you are boastful/cold/heartless


	4. Purple Larkspur and Yellow Carnation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When is enough, enough?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter does, for a short while, live up to the M rating.

Anthea and Antony found their dinner about a twenty minute walk later and a few blocks away in a little tucked away place that reminded Anthea of a Van Gogh painting. They say across from each other, Antony entertaining her with stories and a few shared ones of her own. It was pleasant, much more so than any date she had been on in the recent years. It made her hopeful, almost wish that she could go off and have a home life rather than constantly focused on work.

The idea just made her sigh softly to herself and refocus on Antony's bike ride through China.

He was walking her back towards her hotel when he saw a park and took her hand to tug her towards it. She laughed, asking him what he was doing and he said having an adventure. Anthea chuckled and followed him. Midway down a dim and deserted path he took her be the waist and pressed her slowly against a tree. Taking the message, she laced her fingers behind his head and pulled him in for a kiss.

Forty minutes later they finally returned to leave her in the lobby of Anthea's hotel and she pressed the button on the elevator, a goofy grin spread over her face and devastatingly sappy thoughts invading her usually focused mind.

 

Rosa had made her intentions quite clear in the car on the way to the hotel, and Mycroft was more than willing to oblige her. The second they were in the private elevator, he had her backed against the wall across from the door with her skirt rucked up around her waist, grinding against her. He fumbled in his pocket for a condom, pressing it into her hand, and she unfastened his trousers and rolled it on. They were so lost in their frantic coupling that they didn't notice the elevator reaching the penthouse suites and then heading back down again. 

Anthea stood in shock as the elevator doors opened and she saw Mycroft backing a beautiful woman to the back of the compartment, grinding furiously against her, "Mr. Holmes!" She cried out, trying to keep her voice quiet to not alert anyone else in the lobby, but still so shocked that he would engage in such activities in such a public place. There was only so much that she could do to protect him.

Anthea's voice was a total shock and Mycroft looked over his shoulder. "Dear me, Miss Jones. You'll just have to wait for the elevator to come back down," he gasped, pressing the 'close door' button and disentangling himself from his date as the elevator shot back up toward the suite again, leaving Anthea standing in the lobby. It wasn't as though anybody else would be using that elevator in any case, it only served their suites.  
Once they reached the top again, he led Rosa out and into the bedroom of his suite, telling her to make herself comfortable. 

She didn't press the return button for the elevator, instead turned around and strode off quickly to the nearest bar. Anthea had no desire to go up to their suites and have to hear anything through the walls. Wait for the elevator indeed - she would wait a few hours. In the meantime, perhaps it was time that she invest some effort into looking for a new employer. Or there was always the option of starting her own consulting business. She was a smart enough woman... Travel and freelance perhaps. Anthea sat at the bar for a few hours, writing out ideas on her phone and doing some research into what she might want to spend some time doing for the next few years.

It was close to 3AM before Mycroft sent Rosa home with vague reassurances of calling her if he found himself in Torino again. As far as she knew, he was just a businessman at a conference, a regular sort of man. Elevator incident aside, it had been an excellent evening. He might indeed call her if he had a lull in his schedule.

He showered and slept well and soundly for about four hours before rising to get ready for the second full day of negotiations. 

It as a few hours later when she finally wandered up to their quiet suite and Anthea was able to get a few hours of sleep, almost too excited to actually rest. She was going to finalise the draft of her resignation letter today, then give it to Mr. Holmes. She was simply tired of dealing with him, and ready to move onto a new job. Everything in her life was dedicated to him, and she found that it was no longer what she wanted in life. Antony was a good man, and he seemed genuinely interested in her. Not that she was basing this decision on thinking that he had anything to do with her future, she simply wanted more than just little flings with men.  
She got up with a bit of a bounce and got ready, feeling more alive than she had in years, between having a fun night with Antony and deciding that she was going to actually move on.

By quarter to eight, Mycroft was in the living room of the suite, sipping strong espresso (tea was just not cutting it) and going over the last fiddly bits of the negotiation which needed to be nailed down that morning. They'd have been done yesterday if Adams wasn't such an utterly incompetent twit.

Anthea knocked on the door a few moments later, breezing in with a cup of coffee and a wide smile. She was ready to tackle the day, finish the conference on a strong note between her and Mr. Holmes and hand in her resignation letter.  
"Good morning Mr. Holmes," she greeted and sat on the sofa across from him.

"Anthea," he greeted, glancing up from his notes. "Is it legal to be so pleased at this hour of the morning?" he asked idly, seeing her smile and general demeanour. 

That made her stop short, she wasn't normally this happy around him, but there was a time when she was, and to him, this was a new her. That almost seemed indecent, "Most likely not, though there is nothing that you can do about it," she teased lightly, setting about getting ready for their morning meeting.

He gave an inelegant snort and drank the rest of his coffee. "Such cheek, but also true," he murmured.

Looking over the notes once again, he began organizing things in the order he'd need them that morning. "In regards to the day's proceedings, anything else you can find out about Adams and her assistants would be immensely helpful. I left a message for my former colleague but I have yet to hear back from him. Do I have lunch plans today?"

"None sir," she made note and started to make a list of places to look for more information on Ms. Adams. It was something that Mr. Holmes seemed to be concerned about, so she told herself to make sure it was a thorough search on the woman, "I shall have a file drawn up on Ms. Adams by then for us to review over lunch."

"Thank you, that would be quite useful, especially if she stalls negotiations this morning as well," Mycroft replied, putting his papers into his briefcase. "It's possible she's just incompetent or her nerves are getting to her - one's first big international event can have that effect, I'm told." Not that Mycroft ever experienced anything of that sort - he was well assured of his right and ability to rule and command. 

Anthea rolled her eyes a bit, of course he'd been told and never experienced that. Now that she had made the decision to leave, his little egotistical statements like that slightly grated her nerves, "I'll just start then, if you've nothing left to go over," she raised an eyebrow to him, fingers itching at her phone.

"Let me get another cup of coffee and then go right ahead," Mycroft replied, as he went into the kitchen to refill his cup. "The hotel staff brought up pastries, would you like a croissant?" he called across the breakfast bar that separated the kitchen and living areas. 

"Yes, thank you," she called to him, standing and pushing her bag onto her shoulder while typing with one hand on her phone and holding her coffee in the other. She was totally distracted by sending off quick requests for background checks on Ms. Adams, a few also that would take a little longer, but would get to them by that evening or the next day, hopefully. Anything they could dredge up, she wanted. Then she'd sort it before presenting it to Mr. Holmes.

Mycroft returned with paper cup of coffee and a croissant wrapped in a napkin balanced atop it. He grabbed his own briefcase and managed to get the suite's door open with his elbow, not spilling anything. He let Anthea go ahead of him, distracted as she was, and wondered if he should say anything about the night before and the elevator incident as he pressed the down button. He thought he'd better not.

She followed him, looking up while she was walking then back to her messages while they waited to go down the elevator to the waiting car. This elevator that the previous night had been a bit of a catalyst for Anthea to change her life around. She was almost grateful to it, now, but still would be a bit cautious on elevators when trying to go up to her rooms without Mr. Holmes from now on. They went out and got into the waiting car to head over to the conference. Anthea intended to find a small private room to do some work in, avoiding that day’s lectures. She doubted that there was much to learn from anyone anyways, unless she could get closer to that Jennifer woman. Which reminded her to get a background check on the rest of the US delegation as well.

Mycroft handed over the croissant as soon as they were settled in the car, leaving Anthea to her own thoughts and gathering his for the day's proceedings. The situation in Egypt would need to be addressed first thing, certainly, followed by the funding for Greece and the issues in Spain before they could become problematic. He was almost thankful he didn't have anything planned for the evening - today was going to be tiring. 

The croissant was warm in her hand and she ate it slowly, finally taking a moment to relax in the car before their long day. Certainly long for Mr. Holmes and long for her by association. She would give him the letter tonight, after the days proceedings were finished. It would be fine, she kept assuring herself. He hardly cared for her anyways, just that she did her job.

Mycroft sipped at his coffee on the ride over to the conference hotel, gazing out the window at the busy Torino morning. He was certainly glad he had such a sensible and capable PA - how long had Anthea been with him now? Seven, eight years? He so hoped last night's little incident hadn't put a kink in their otherwise smooth working relationship. 

Little did he know his own habits were about to become his undoing. 

Anthea found herself an empty room once they got to the hotel, setting her things up and reading through what had already been sent to her and compiling it to one report for Mr. Holmes with references. She spent much of her morning that way, and when it came time for lunch she had a fairly interesting portrait of Ms. Adams.

With surreptitious assistance from several of the other delegates, Mycroft managed to get the Greece business wrapped up that morning despite Ms Adams' failed attempts to derail the discussion. He was very close to having her removed from the proceedings, but excluding the Americans would only lead to immense trouble. 

[SMS to M. Holmes] In or out? - A

She fired off a quick text and gathered the report that she had collected and created for this meeting. It took her the time that she sent the text and for Mycroft to respond to her to finish compiling everything.

Mycroft considered the crowds around the conference hotel before sending a text back and taking a seat in one of the armchairs in the lobby to wait. 

[SMS to A. Jones] Out, if we can find somewhere quiet. If not, I have about two hours, back to the hotel is fine - M 

Anthea quickly looked up suitable restaurants for their purpose on her phone and decided that they may have better luck simply going to the hotel. Gathering all of her things, she strode out to him in the lobby, "The hotel, I should think, will be a suitable venue for this."

Mycroft stood as he saw Anthea coming toward him. "That suits. Just order room service, then?" he inquired, walking with her out to the car. "I presume you found something worthwhile."

"Well, She does not have much of a past until about nine years ago, that's when she shows up on University records and started to get internships and climb her way up towards this position," Anthea explained once they got in the car, "Why don't you read the file, then we can discuss the situation. I'm also having background checks done on her staff."

Mycroft took the file, scanning it rapidly. It was so utterly banal. Typical university education with a decent GPA upon graduation, DC internships, good performance records. The only thing she'd done that could be considered at all drastic was change her hair colour from dark brown to blonde, from looking at her driver licence photos from over the years. Her records affirmed his original thought, that she wasn't savvy enough to handle the position she'd been given, so how had she managed it? 

They quickly exited the car and went up to Mr. Holmes rooms for their meeting, waiting until then to say anything, "She seems like she has some sort of vendetta to get to the position that she's at, but we have no idea what it is," Anthea finally said once they were past the elevator doors.

"I had a similar thought," Mycroft replied, leaning against the wall of the elevator. "But for what reason? I can't shake the gut feeling that it has something to do with me, but I've never even seen her before." 

The elevator reached the top floor and he led the way into his suite, shedding his suit jacket and laying it over the back of one of the sofas. "The room service menu is in the kitchen - I'm going to try to get hold of Robert one more time before he leaves his office."

Anthea had half a mind to comment that everything did not revolve around him, though based on Ms. Adams actions during the conference thus far, she seemed quite fixated on Mr. Holmes and she feared that he may be right in thinking that Ms. Adams was focused on him.  
She strode into the Kitchen to pick up the menu and ordered them something suitable for lunch, going back into the sitting area to wait for him to get off of the phone.

Mycroft returned, looking utterly puzzled, phone in hand. "Robert - you recall him, I'm sure, from most of these events - says Ms Adams was one of his assistants about five years ago at the summit in Tokyo, and that she was a quiet, mousy thing then - then she transferred to other departments and finally, three weeks ago, was put forward to attend this conference despite her lack of international diplomatic experience. He thought at first his higher-ups were trying to trip me up, but there's been grumblings that make him think otherwise, but what exactly otherwise, he's not sure," he explained, sitting down on the edge of the sofa. 

He set his phone on the coffee table and pinched the bridge of his nose, a sure sign of an impending tension headache. "I cannot abide useless people, no matter their gender, and she is just utterly /useless/ in that boardroom."

Everything that he was saying went into her head as data to take into account all of their movements from now on. Ms. Adams seemed to be someone to watch out for, an unknown entity that no one trusted at the moment. The movement that indicated a tension headache made Anthea feel slightly guilty for the resignation letter sitting in her purse, but she would be handing it to him at the end of the evening regardless of anything to do with Ms. Adams.  
"Let me get you something for your head, sir," she murmured and stood to go to his toiletries bag for the bottle she knew should be there. Bringing back a pill and a cool glass of water, she set it before him and was about to sit, but instead went to answer the door for room service.

"Thank you," Mycroft murmured, swallowing the headache medicine. He wasn't sure what he would do without Anthea, and he didn't much fancy finding out. He continued massaging the bridge of his nose as she brought their lunch in and got things set up. Hopefully the medicine and some lunch would put the headache on the run, or he would have a very unpleasant afternoon. 

She would stick to her plan, Anthea told herself, not give it to him early though they seemed to be having some down time now. Besides, giving it to him at the end of the conference day made much more sense. Sighing to herself, she took a forkful of salad and chewed it thoughtfully while thinking about what to do about the Ms. Adams situation. "Should we put her under surveillance? Just to track her movements while we have this investigation on her going?"

Mycroft picked at his pasta carbonara, considering the idea. "Perhaps just a low-level watch would be prudent," he agreed. "I doubt she's got anything up her sleeve, but better safe than sorry, I suppose." 

Anthea nodded and sent off of a message to have people start watching Ms. Adams movements and had a bit of relief after sending that. She wanted to know what the flighty woman was up to. She ate quietly for the next few minutes, finishing her salad quickly and setting the plate aside.

Mycroft could feel his headache receding as he ate, and he sighed in relief. he would have to make sure he got a full night's rest tonight. Last night's escapades had been very satisfying, but he was paying the price for lack of sleep now. He put his plate aside and took a few bites of his salad, making sure he drank his entire bottle of sparkling water.  
He was eating well, Anthea noted with satisfaction. Mr. Holmes took care of himself fairly well these days, but she still worried for him on occasion, especially when he pulled stunts such as last night. None of it would matter in a week, though. Anthea was almost itching to give him the letter now, but knew that it would be better to deliver it to him this evening.

"Ready to head back over, then?" Mycroft asked, setting the empty bottle aside. "If I'm lucky and get some cooperation, I won't have to do anything tomorrow except sit through a seminar or two; we're almost through with our agenda."

"That is excellent sir, I hope that it all pans out well," she smiled and gathered her things to walk out the door with, sending a message to the driver that they were ready to depart. "Do you need me working on Ms. Adams more, or would you like me to go back to my seminars?"’

"I think we've gotten everything useful we can about her at this point," Mycroft replied. "Head back to your seminars, or other surveillance as you see fit - you're better placed to ferret out rumours than I am." He put his jacket back on, checking to make sure he had his phone. "Oh, this evening - will you be joining me for dinner, or do you have plans with your dashing young man?" he asked politely. 

She sent him a look, "If you would like a dinner partner, I'm sure that I can be available," Anthea would prefer to spend the evening with Antony, especially after their last dinner had gone so well, and she had plans to give him her resignation letter tonight when they parted ways.

"That isn't what I asked, but I'll just plan on dining alone tonight, then," Mycroft murmured, opening the door to the suite and calling the elevator. 

"If you'd like to not, I can make myself available," she chided. He almost seemed to be grumbling about her not answering his question as he had expected.

"I suspect I may enjoy having the evening to myself after having to deal with Ms Adams again all afternoon," Mycroft quipped wryly, as the elevator whisked them down to the lobby.

"I'm sure you will sir," she half smiled to Mr. Holmes, "If you'd like anything this evening, be sure to let me know. Hopefully you'll be able to celebrate a successful victory by this evening," he usually always got his way at these conferences, and sometimes him being able to relax alone was good. She would ensure that he was fine before she left him with the letter tonight.

"Thank you, but I'm sure I'll be just fine on my own," Mycroft responded, climbing into the car. Anthea was being awfully solicitous today. Something was going on with her; perhaps she wasn't as alright as she seemed with the unfortunate elevator incident. Still, he attempted to focus on the afternoon ahead. It was like trying to row upstream getting anything done, but he was determined.

Their time together on the way back to the hotel was quiet, but comfortable, "I shall see you when the day is over, sir," she nodded to him while climbing out and going back to where the other PAs were. Anthea explained that she had been working earlier, and Mr. Holmes no longer needed her.

The afternoon's session was slightly less difficult than the morning's - perhaps Ms Adams was just reluctant to have parted with any American funds for the EU crises.

A policy was drafted and approved without much fuss, and he was able to release the elite representatives early, fully keeping with the schedule that planned to allow them to join the general conference population for Friday and Saturday's regular sessions. Under the guise of getting to know her better, but in reality wanting to figure her out, Mycroft invited Sarah Adams to tea in the restaurant of the conference hotel, but she declined, giving the excuse of needing to meet with her team. 

Anthea's afternoon passed normally, just a group of chatty women going through their seminars while she tried to weasel out any sort of information from them. Their afternoon went slowly, and she was relieved when it came time to meet Mr. Holmes to return to their hotel for the evening.

Mycroft had rather a pleasant last hour of the afternoon to himself, sitting in the lobby and reading a real newspaper with a cup of proper tea. Anthea would find him there when she finished her seminars, behind a copy of the Financial Times. 

Anthea found him right away. "Ready, sir?" she approached him at an angle so that he had an easy visual of her before she said anything. They needed to debrief about his session this afternoon, but she assumed that it had gone well based on his relaxed posture when she found him.

"Quite," he answered, folding the paper and tucking it under his arm as he stood, walking with her back out to the car. "This is rather tedious, all the back and forth," he offhandedly commented. 

"You wanted the nicer hotel," she reminded him, "Perhaps next year we should arrange to have a high star embassy hotel host this function?" Anthea teased him slightly, getting back into the car and settling down for their drive back to their hotel, "I learned very little this afternoon, I trust that your time was spent much better than mine?" She was almost nervous, as soon as they went over their day she would give him her resignation letter.

"Ms Adams was surprisingly cooperative this afternoon - I am just as shocked as you are," Mycroft answered, tone tinged with amusement. "I invited her for tea to try to suss her out properly, but she declined, claiming the need to debrief her team. The members of the elite council join the general population of the conference tomorrow as scheduled, however."

"I'm glad that we finished mostly on time, even with the interruption from Ms. Adams. Hopefully the Americans don't send her back next time we have a conference," Anthea noted with a slight frown. Taking a deep breath, she pulled out the envelope that contained her resignation letter and handed it to Mr. Holmes, "This is for you, sir."

Mycroft took the envelope, noting Anthea's handwriting on the outside, and opened it curiously. He glanced over the letter, his face paling visibly. He folded it and put it back in the envelope, glancing over at her. "I don't suppose there is any possible way I could get you to reconsider?" 

She would not look at him, instead her eyes were forward, phone in purse and hands folded neatly in her lap, "No sir," she shook her head barely, "It has been a pleasure to work with you, but I think that perhaps it is time that I move on."

"Very well," Mycroft murmured. "I'll be pleased to put forward a letter of recommendation for you. Your work ethic is impressive and you have been nothing short of stellar during the time we've worked together. If you have any opinions as to possible replacements, please don't hesitate to put them forward in the next two weeks," he suggested, putting the letter in his pocket. He was out of the car as soon as it drew to a stop in front of their hotel. 

Anthea followed him quietly, surprised that he was upset at her leaving him. She stood by him patiently while waiting for the elevator to take them up to their suite. Words were beyond her, and it was very obvious that Mr. Holmes needed time to process what was going on.

Mycroft remained silent as the elevator carried them up to the suites, stopping just as he unlocked his door. "Have a pleasant evening," he said quietly, slipping into his room before she could reply. He moved on auto-pilot, removing his jacket and loosening his tie before pouring himself a rather large tumbler of whiskey and sitting down heavily in one of the armchairs. The elevator incident must have been too much. He was losing the best PA he'd ever hoped to have, and he had nothing to blame but himself and his poor judgment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Purple Larkspur - Arrogance  
> Yellow Carnation - You have disappointed me


	5. Saffron and Thornapple

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Danger and deceit abound for Mycroft.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains physical torture of a major character. It is not extremely graphic, but if you want to skip it, stop reading at "It might be his only chance for anyone to find him" and pick up again at "Two minutes of Mycroft not responding to the knocks"
> 
> I will provide a summary in the end notes.

Antony had been massaging Anthea all afternoon, flirting and pestering her for dinner plans and perhaps more. But for some reason when she finally unlocked her door with shaking hands and leaned against it once it was shut, all she could do was sink to the floor and stare blankly at the empty space before her and ignore the odd tear slipping down her cheek.

In truth, Mycroft had no idea how he'd function without Anthea. Not just professionally, but personally. She was just always _there_ , ready to take on any task and make his life easier. Oh, she was certainly paid well enough for it, but he fancied she had enjoyed her job and taking care of him, at least a bit. She was the closest thing he'd ever had - the closest thing he'd ever wanted - to a wife. Certainly none of his fly-by-night dates could measure up. And wasn't that dangerous territory to contemplate.

There was no way that anyone could work for someone for so long, do so much personally and professionally for the other person and not get attached. Anthea refused to be honest with herself and admit that she cared a great deal and there was a piece of her that wanted to storm into Mycroft's rooms and tear the letter from him and rip it up, tell him that they should forget it all. Instead, she stood, sent a message to Antony and pushed away the whole situation and was determined to remind herself why she was leaving Mr. Holmes employ.

While Anthea was getting ready to go out, Mycroft was drowning his sorrows. He finished off his first glass of whiskey and decided to go down to the hotel bar where he could get a bite to eat as well. 

He took a seat at the bar, deciding to go all-out in his misery and order a medium-rare cheeseburger, paired with a local lager. It wasn't as good as some he'd had in the states, but it wasn't half bad, either. As he was finishing off his chips, a certain American delegate slid onto the stool next to him. 

"Good evening, Mr Holmes," she greeted him smoothly, signaling the bartender for a drink. 

"Ms Adams. I would say it's a pleasure, but even my capacity for polite untruths is a bit strained this evening," Mycroft replied. 

She only laughed at that, waving his half-apology off. "You don't like me at all, do you, Mr Holmes?" 

"I dislike your tactics and your disruption of my meetings. I couldn't begin to speculate on any of your other traits," he fired back, draining the last of his lager. 

"That's fair enough," she agreed, taking her drink from the bartender. "Another lager for my friend - on my tab, I insist."

Mycroft considered protesting, but deciding to throw caution to the wind, he accepted. Surprisingly, the young American woman was a rather good conversationalist, and he was having a much nicer time than he had anticipated. Still, he missed Anthea's gentle humor and her efficient handling of his affairs. He wasn't even sure how much he could drink without her guidance, and wasn't that ridiculous? He sent her a text while Ms Adams - Sarah - was in the restroom. 

[SMS to A Jones] can't even get properly drunk, always stop at three since that's when you send for the car. wish you'd reconsider. I'd do anything. -MH

It wasn't until much later that Mycroft realized he shouldn't feel quite so tipsy from a bit of whiskey and three relatively weak lagers. By then, he had been manhandled into a car with dark tinted windows that was speeding into the countryside, too incapacitated to do anything. 

Anthea had slipped out of the hotel without looking to see if she saw Mr. Holmes that evening as she went. There was a bit of a hollow spot in her chest where her thoughts concerned him, so she avoided the topic in her head and threw herself into Antony's charmingly distracting personality. He was bound to notice that she was a bit off tonight, but he was a complete gentleman, and even excused her silence when she read a text. On the taxi ride from the latest restaurant he took them to, Anthea decided to throw caution to the wind and accepted his invitation back to his room for the night.

Early the next morning, she left him with a kiss on the cheek and an apologetic goodbye and had the car take her back to her hotel so that she could get ready for the day. Anthea knocked sharply on Mr. Holmes door at seven thirty, a bit before they needed to leave for the conference. She was determined to not let anything go sour between them for the next two weeks, but the text message weighed heavily in her phone's inbox and the silence from the other side of the hotel door was a bit disheartening for someone who begged for her to stay the night before.

Mycroft woke the next morning with a splitting headache on a flimsy cot in a room that was little more than a cell. There was the bed, a chair, and a sink and toilet. He immediately reached for his phone, but of course, it was nowhere to be found. He'd been stripped of his jacket, tie, waistcoat, belt, and shoes. He was still a little fuzzy on the events of the night before; he recalled Anthea giving him that blasted letter, and deciding to head down to the bar - but beyond that, there wasn't anything he could recall. He availed himself of the facilities and went to the door of the cell, shouting through the bars at eye-level. 

"I demand to face my captor!" he called. "I demand fair treatment under the fourth Geneva convention!" 

Immediately, a large, ugly man was at the door. "You have no rights," he drawled in a vaguely American Southern accent. "But if you shut up, you'll get breakfast." 

Mycroft stepped back, weighing the consequences. Breakfast it was; black coffee and stale, dry toast. Well, it was something. He was left to his own devices for the morning. Several of his ties had GPS trackers sewn in; but he was unsure if yesterday's was one of them. He hoped so. It might be his only chance for anyone to find him. 

At midday, the burly guard muscled his way in, cuffed him, and marched him down a hallway into an interrogation room, where he was tied to an upright contraption, stripped of his shirt, and horsewhipped until his back was raw. Through it all, he demanded to face his captors and be told what he was being held for, even as he was sobbing from the pain. He had tried to stay stoic and brave, but it was too much. After the whipping, they left him tied there. 

Eventually, the door opened and he heard high heels clicking on the concrete floor. "Anthea?" he murmured. 

"No, no - I'm afraid not, Mr Holmes," a familiar voice said. "You've been a very bad boy and I've been waiting a long time for us to meet again." 

"Ms Adams? What... what are you talking about?" 

"I don't suppose you remember the Tokyo summit, five years ago? Well, I'm sure you do. But I'm sure you don't remember the naive little assistant to your good friend Robert, the one you sweet talked into a quick fuck in an empty office? I was younger then, and not quite so worldly wise." 

Oh God. Yes, now he did remember. "You have no idea how sorry I am," he murmured, head hanging. 

"Oh, you'll be sorrier," she promised. "I spent over a year trying to contact you, thought I fancied you, and you kept pawning me off on your assistant. I didn't want to talk to HER. Sounds like she's wised up at long last, from what you were telling me last night."

"You drugged me. You can't treat me like this!" he demanded. 

"Yet you treated me like a blow-up doll. I can't return the emotional pain, but I can give you the equivalent in physical pain, _sir_." 

Mycroft closed his eyes and shook his head minutely. "You're insane. This is completely psychopathic." 

"Yes, I've been told that many times," she said brightly, not at all bothered by the accusation. 

That was the last thing he knew for a very long time, as she drew her fist back and punched him in the ribs. 

 

Two minutes of Mycroft not responding to the knocks she pressed against her door made her open it and walk in, calling for the man. He was nowhere to be found inside the suite, all of his things left just as they were and the files still strewn around the table as they had been the previous afternoon during lunch. With a slight frown at the lack of Mr. Holmes’ presence anywhere in the suite, she called his phone to try to find where he was. He would not be so petty as to leave for the conference without her, would he? His phone went straight to voicemail, as though it were off. It was never off, even when he was with a companion for the evening. The next phone call she made was to the driver to see if he had driven Mycroft anywhere the previous night.

With a negative from the chauffeur, Anthea went down to the lobby to the front desk to ask after Mr. Holmes’ movements the previous evening. Of course all of the lobby staff knew who he was, but these people had just gotten on shift about an hour ago. Anthea got the numbers of the people who had been on staff to call, then went back up to the main suite to start arranging for a search for Mr. Holmes. She called up a few contacts and had them start looking at video footage for him from the last time she had seen him.

A phone call to the few people on staff led her to the bar and it’s staff the previous evening, and reports that there was a pretty woman talking with a man of his description the previous evening for a few hours. There was a cold, hard knot of dread forming just below her sternum, and it completely broke when she had the people who were looking at local security cameras forward her a video of Mr. Holmes and the woman he had been with the previous evening. It was Ms. Adams, the obstructive head of the delegation from America this past year. Anthea immediately rang up a few people who she knew to trust enough to help her retrieve Mr. Holmes from whatever the Americans were doing.

She watched the video a few times, picking up on all of the details of the evening. Mr. Holmes was inebriated, accepted drinks from Ms. Adams which were drugged by a paid off bartender, then watched with horror as a very ‘concerned’ Ms. Adams escorted a struggling Mycroft out of the bar and to a waiting car through a side entrance to the hotel.

Anthea went to her room, grabbing her bags and bringing them to Mycroft’s room where she had decided to set up her base of operations for this abduction case. No one took her employer and got away with it lightly. The first thing she did was change into something more suitable for the upcoming day and arm herself with her handgun and a few discreetly placed knives hidden around her body.

It was nearly noon when her contacts arrived and she debriefed them quickly on the situation and had the background checks on Ms. Adams and her people pushed through. Then she sent two well trained people to the other hotel to pick up anyone who was a part of the American delegation for questioning. They came back with reports that all of the rooms were deserted save for Ms. Adams’ PA, Jennifer, who was found in the hotel lobby and now was being held in Anthea’s empty rooms.

With a cold, dead look in her eyes, Anthea went over to interview Jennifer.

“Good day,” she greeted with a predatory smile.

“Anthea, thank God, I have no idea what is going on, who were those men? What’s going on at this conference? First the last minute change in representative, then all of the staff change save for me…” she trailed off, noting Anthea’s calm movements to sit across from her. It was clear Anthea had no intention of untying her.

“Tell me what you know of Ms. Adams, Jennifer,” she stated coolly and listened as an odd tale was spun around Ms. Adams’ identity, then sent off a few names and references to contact about the vile woman who likely held Mycroft at her mercy.

 

Pain. The only thing registering was pain. Everything hurt. He was sure most of his ribs were broken and he felt like a giant bruise. Internal bleeding was a guarantee. No matter which way he shifted on the narrow cot where he was dumped between beatings, it sent a fresh jolt through him. He tried to stay awake, but it was too much to bear. 

Aside from the first punch to the ribs, Sarah Adams let her hooligans do the dirty work. From what Mycroft could tell in his pain-addled state, they were rogue US agents, convinced to follow her for promises of excellent pay and the opportunity to indulge their sadistic sides. He was unable to tell how long he had been held captive from the way he kept drifting in and out of consciousness, and he was quickly losing hope that he'd be rescued.

Several long hours and a few strong cups of coffee later, Anthea, Jennifer, and her team had somehow figured out Ms. Adams motivating drive after a dreadful encounter with Mycroft in Tokyo, then her rapidly clawed way up the chain of command to somehow land this position.

"I want all of her calls traced, find out who she's been talking with while here in Italy and try to find where they have gotten to here in the city. She couldn't have gotten that far," Anthea had her hands on her hips as she surveyed the people around her. Two of them set off on making phone calls, three of them pulled open laptops to them to start looking over video again to find where the car had driven to and one of them to try to get access to phone records, text messages, emails, and anything that they could get on Ms. Adams.

"Anthea, you need to take a moment to eat," a soft voice said from her elbow and Anthea turned to see Jennifer holding a plate with a sandwich on it, "Everyone else had lunch, you need it too, especially if you plan on going with whatever team to recover Mr. Holmes." She was so quiet and unassuming, but Anthea heard the slight steel in her voice and insistent eyes that told her to just eat the sandwich for a moment, then get back to saving the most daft man in the history of the world.

"Good call, Jennifer," Anthea accepted the plate, propping herself next to someone on a laptop to watch video with them for clues. That was as much as the other PA would get from Anthea on the subject of her good work ethic as a PA.

They were at a bit of a stall a few hours later when dusk was falling. Anthea looked around at the people who had been working so hard, and felt completely helpless. What were they missing? There had to be some clue that would lead them to Ms. Adams and Mycroft. Anthea did not want to think how twistedly sadistic the woman would be with her employer, she had to just hope that he was as resilient as he claimed to be and would be alive still when she arrived so that Anthea could strangle him herself.

She was just about to go take a walk to clear her head when someone piped up that they finally found the car, "Where?"

"It's twenty miles away in a old farm house, the land was bought a year ago by an Armada Sash, which could be an anagram for Sarah Adams.”

“This is worth pursuing,” Anthea said. “It’s the best thing we have so far.” She started issuing orders for people to prepare for an extraction. They did not know how many people Adams had with her, but by god, Anthea would not lose to this spiteful woman.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Saffron - danger in excess  
> Thornapple - deception
> 
>  
> 
> Mycroft is tortured by Sarah Adams and her rogue agents as retaliation for sleeping with her at a conference five years previous and then blowing her off.


	6. Purple Hyacinth and White Crysanthemum

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The rescue attempt is mounted.

Mycroft regained consciousness from a strong slap to his face and he struggled to open his eyes. 

"My guards have just reported a helicopter circling and cars headed this direction. How did you get word out?" Sarah Adams hissed, gripping his hair at the roots. 

"Didn't..." Mycroft managed to speak through swollen, dry lips. "y'took my phone. Maybe... not as clever as you think you are." All he got for his trouble was another ringing slap to the side of his head and then he was blessedly unconscious once more. 

Ms Adams looked at him with disgust, stalking out of the tiny room and up out of the farmhouse basement. "You! I don't care who comes through the gates, you shoot on sight! It's probably just his enabling PA." 

The guard shook his head. "It's more than that. That's a full-scale extraction team, ma'am - a helicopter, and the satellite shows five vehicles. We would do well to stand down and surrender."

Sarah drew a pistol from the back waistband of her trousers and cold-cocked the guard over the head with the butt. "I call the shots here, Agent Williams," she snarled, stepping over the fallen guard and picking up his radio. "All units. Shoot on sight. That is an ORDER." 

 

Anthea and her team had left Jennifer back at the hotel with a minder and orders not to leave. She had nodded, then surprised Anthea with a hug. "Go get the bitch," whispered in Anthea's ear before backing off and setting about tidying the mess a bit as Anthea walked out of the door.  
To her credit, Anthea's heart was not racing, nor were her hands shaking. She had on all black, just like the rest of their team, with a sewed on arm patch to identify everyone. They were all debriefed on their targets as they traveled out to the farm.  
Anthea would hang back and go in during a second sweep to hopefully get Mycroft, pull him out, and take him to get proper medical attention. She was sure that he would need it by the time she got to him.  
It took twelve agonizing minutes before Anthea's team got the go ahead to enter the house once they arrived. All of the guards and agents on site had given up as soon as her teams had moved in, leaving Adams locked in a room with Mycroft. She was demanding to be set free or she'd kill him.  
"Ms. Adams, it's Anthea, Mr. Holmes' personal assistant, why don't you come out and we can talk about what's going on," she called to the locked door from a safe distance.

"Oh please. I don't want to talk to you. You were as bad as he was, blowing my calls off after Tokyo five years ago and telling me to just give it up and move on. He needs to be punished. I'll kill him if I have to!" Sarah shouted through the door of the cell. 

Mycroft awoke from the shouting, but said nothing. He held his breath, the sound of Anthea's voice giving him some small hope that he might just make it out of this alive. 

"You know what, I'm sorry," Anthea called back, "I did blow off your calls then. Mostly because I was blowing off three to four other women's calls at the same time, for the exact same reasons as you. You are the only one of us who has ever been brave enough to do something about it, though. Mr. Holmes never truly understood that women don't like to be treated like a queen for one night, or a quick tryst in an office, but to be paid attention to and respected as they should be. Just like any other human," she licked her lips, her mouth was dry.  
"Is there any other way into that room? Window, something? I want a flash grenade thrown in and then we can infiltrate," she murmured to the agent nearby.

'No... wrong. Wrong, wrong, wrong,' Mycroft thought muzzily, doing his best to keep still and quiet. "respect you, 'thea" he murmured so quietly it barely passed his lips. 

"I almost believe you," Sarah called, "Except you stuck around for how long, cleaning up his messes? You're his creature. You probably love him, don't you? Let me do you a favor and finish him off so he can't hurt you." 

Mycroft almost wished he was still out cold. It would be better than lying here listening to Ms Adams say such awful things to Anthea. Maybe this was what he deserved, after all. 

Anthea laughed heartily, "Love him? Far from it Ms. Adams. I gave him my resignation letter, I'm leaving his employ to start my own business and get on with my own life. He's too important to kill, though," she reasoned, "Think about it, you won't get any sort of deals if you kill him, but if you come out now, we might be able to work something nice for you out."

"Ms. Jones, the man with the flash grenade is in place, on your signal," the nearby team member murmured to her.

"Start a twenty second countdown for all team members then, we'll break the door down on this end when the flash goes off,” Anthea replied. 

"Oh, I already know I'm not getting out of this alive," Sarah called. "I'll take us both out, quicker than you can say-"

What exactly Sarah had meant for Anthea to say was lost in the blinding light of the flash grenade, and she screamed in frustration. When the kerfuffle stopped, she was on the floor on her front, being handcuffed by one of Anthea's agents. 

Mycroft, for his part, barely managed to convey the simplest of words to the agent who rushed to his side. "Hurts..." he whispered, blacking out once more. 

Anthea had just made it to his side to hear his last trailing word. She was beside the bed, on her knees looking over the poor man, "Mycroft? Mycroft, you can't just go out on me now, I know it's hard, but come back to me until at least I get you medical help," she looked him over, seeing that there was quite a bit of bruising, blood, and marks marring him. She leaned over and tried to listen for his faint heartbeat beneath the sound of wet breathing.

"Someone get a medical team in here right away, Mr. Holmes is in critical condition," Anthea called loudly to the local boys. They knew the hospitals around here better than she did.

He heard Anthea - she had come for him after all, everything was running together in his mind and he wasn't sure of the order of events. " 'thea..." he murmured, attempting to reach for her, but lacking the strength. " 'm sorry, so sorry." he kept muttering, unable to remember just what he was apologizing for, but knowing he owed her more than a few apologies. He struggled to focus on her, but even the faint light hurt his eyes. "try... be better... don't go..." 

His eyes slipped closed again as the med team rushed in and began to attempt to stabilize him. 

"I'm not going anywhere," she ran her fingers through his sweat matted hair, blinking back tears as she watched the medical team sweep in and start to prepare him for transport, "You're going to be fine, Mycroft, it's all going to be fine."  
Anthea looked at the medical team with strict eyes, silently warning them that he had better live if anyone valued their livelihood.

Mycroft managed a weak smile before an oxygen mask was fitted over his mouth and nose. Anthea had come for him and so it would all be fine. She had said so, and there was nobody he trusted more. 

That was his last thought for quite some time.

Anthea left her people to clean up the mess of the farmhouse and deal with the crazy woman, going in the med transport with Mycroft to the hospital. She watched as they whisked him away to an operating room to deal with the severe internal bleeding, the lacerations and a concerning blow to the head. A nurse came up to her, distracting her a bit from the agonizing wait ahead of her, and started asking about his medical history.  
Of course she knew it all. Anthea knew Mycroft better than he knew himself sometimes. She knew more about him than any normal PA would know about her employer, but that made her a better assistant to him, especially now.

Hours later, Mycroft was finally out of surgery, and the doctor came to speak with Anthea.

"We managed to get the bleeding under control, but most of his ribs are broken and he has a significant skull fracture, in addition to a broken ankle and a lot of bruising. Thankfully there was no brain swelling or damage. We're going to keep him in a drug-induced coma for some time, possibly a few weeks, so he can heal properly. He can be moved back to the UK in a few days, depending on how things go. He'll eventually be the same as ever, it's just going to take time."

Anthea stood to meet the doctor when he came out to meet her, "I see, thank you. Is there anything else that I need to know, that I can do?" she looked past the doctor where Mycroft was likely lying in a room, alone and completely out. She would destroy Sarah Adams when Mycroft got better, or she was out of his employ and free to pursue destruction.

"He can hear you, so feel free to speak to him. Whether he'll remember when he wakes is under debate, but familiar voices usually help with stabilizing heart rates. Is there anyone else we can contact for you, Mrs Holmes?" The doctor answered.

"I'm sorry, you're mistaken, I'm his assistant, not his wife," she shook her head and smiled sheepishly, "We've worked together for many years, so I understand the confusion," Anthea turned, and picked up her bags, "Now, where is his room? I think that I should go sit with him."

"Ah, my apologies. He's in room 114, just down this corridor. Best of luck, I'm guessing he's the type that won't want to take it easy," the doctor said ruefully.  
She shook her head slightly, of course not. But for the next two weeks, she would do her best with him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Purple Hyacinth - Sorrow  
> White Crysanthemum - Truth


	7. Daffodil and Star of Bethlehem

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mycroft is recovering from his ordeal, and Anthea is making a name for herself.

[Two Months Later]

"Jennifer? Would you be a dear and bring me a cuppa?" Anthea called from her office, bent over a few files and a bit of a tension headache building at the base of her neck. No wonder Mycroft had always been getting them, this life was riddled with stress. Much more so than he had ever let on.  
A cup of tea settled in front of her. "Thank you, you're a lifesaver."

"Hmm, good to know," a voice that was decidedly _not_ Jennifer's purred. "I've finally been cleared to come back to the office part-time, and I find that while I was recovering, a good deal of my less-sensitive responsibilities have been contracted out. You do efficient and exceptional work, Miss Jones. I continue to be pleased with it."

Mycroft stood there in front of her desk, a bit pale still, but looking much like his old self. 

Anthea stood and looked at him carefully, taking in his pale, thin frame and frowning, "Whoever your new PA is, they're not doing their job very well. You should still be in bed," she crossed her arms, "And none of this was for you to be pleased with, I'm making a name for myself. Becoming my own boss."

He smiled. "Martin, his name is Martin. And I've only had him a week, he's still intimidated and figuring things out," Mycroft replied, sitting down in the chair in front of Anthea's desk. "I realize that you are making a name for yourself and being your own boss; I wish you nothing but the best with it. Am I not permitted to be pleased with the work you've done on my behalf? Aren't happy customers good free advertising?”

Anthea nodded, tamping down on the bit of ire she had that was rising up her throat, "Yes, well, we've been getting on well enough without your support, though I am grateful that you find my work satisfactory. Did you just come over to see how I was getting on or was there something that you wanted? I'm in the middle of a minor crisis that needs my attention," she smiled apologetically, the small lie coming easy to her. 

The name of his new PA caught up to her, a male PA. Martin. So he hired a man to assist him, she wondered why. He was probably well qualified, it most likely meant nothing.

"I have no doubt you are doing exceedingly well without any input from me whatsoever. Is it that hard to believe that I am proud of you? I realize you don't need nor very likely want my approval, but you have it nonetheless, along with my everlasting gratitude for saving my idiot life." 

Mycroft set a folder down on her desk, opening it. "I was going over the incident report from my abduction, and the final update mentions nothing about my abductor. I hoped you might have some information for me pertaining to that. Do I still need to watch my back?"

She watched him with hard eyes, "Not from her, no," she shook her head. The woman had suffered enough, and Anthea had some sympathy over the hell that Mycroft had put a few women through, so she had let the woman off easily with her life, though she would be imprisoned until she died in a psychiatric hospital in an undisclosed location in the states. What anyone else did with her was no longer Anthea's problem.

Mycroft blinked at her cold stare, closing the file. "Duly noted. Thank you for your time, Miss Jones." he got to his feet. "I'll see myself out." 

He went out into the outer office, collecting Martin from where he was amiably chatting with Jennifer, and ordered his driver to take him home once they were in the car. 

Mycroft left and Anthea couldn't move. She just stood there and looked at the empty space across from her where, perhaps, the most important person to her had just stood. Stood, the man who she had watched lying helplessly broken in a bed for two weeks straight before she pulled herself away to go begin anew.  
"Ms. Jones?" Jennifer stood in the doorway, "There's a call from Peru for you," the soft voice pulled Anthea gently from her shock and she began working again, trying to get a quick resolution so that she could leave her suddenly small office.

As soon as Mycroft arrived at home, he went straight to his library and took down a small hardcover book, one which had originally been in the library at the estate. He went to the index, rifling through the pages until he found what he was looking for, making a few notes before calling a specific florist to place an order for morning delivery. 

"Hello, Imogen - just the lovely lady I was hoping to reach. It's Mycroft," he said warmly. Imogen was a close friend of his mother's who specialised in arranging bouquets along the Victorian flower language meanings. "I need a bouquet of daffodils surrounding a few stems of star of bethlehem or fairy lily - white, if you have them in stock."

"Oh dear, you've been rather wicked, haven't you? Atoning for your sins?" Imogen asked with a soft laugh. "Might I suggest only a few daffodils, err on the side of caution with your meaning being respect and uncertainty? You might add galium for patience and a branch of flowering almond for hope."

"I defer to the master," Mycroft replied. "I'll likely need to send quite a few more similar bouquets - it's an ongoing campaign - so keep thinking of appropriate flowers for me, won't you? Can you have that delivered for me in the morning?"

"I'll get right to work. Give the address to my assistant and we'll get it over there first thing. It's good to hear from you, Mycroft."

"Thank you again, Imogen." 

 

Home was quiet that night for Anthea, take out gotten for ease and eaten in silence as she reviewed the memories from a few months ago of those frightful hours spent looking for Mycroft, then extracting him and waiting for doctors to get back to her. Did he think that it would be wise to simply wander back into her life and be friends? Or... something? What had he hoped to get from coming to her office in the middle of the work day? She sighed heavily, put the rest of her uneaten Thai away and went to bed.  
Jennifer was in before her that morning, as she normally managed to do, though she looked a bit nervous. 

"Good-morning, what have we got on our schedule for today?"

"Wrap up for Peru and a few notes from Osaka on the upcoming project," Jennifer seemed to hesitate before going on. "You've also had a delivery this morning. It's on your desk."

"A delivery? What is it?" Anthea frowned. if it was anything dangerous, she was sure that Jennifer would have done something about it, so as it was she walked into her office then stopped short. "Oh, I... thank you Jennifer, I can handle it from here."

She knew exactly who it was from, whipping out her phone and looking up names and meanings quickly, then sitting heavily down on a chair. A male PA? His compliments and injured look when leaving yesterday... then these flowers. Mycroft was working quite hard to get into her good graces, and she did not understand why. For now, she didn't know what to say so she moved them off to a side table and started in on her morning reports.

Mycroft slept fitfully, plagued by the ever-present nightmares he'd suffered since the incident. His body was well on its way to healing, but he would be in therapy a great deal longer for his mind to be back to normal. He rose at seven to get ready for the day, despite only getting a few hours of sleep. He would work in his offices at Whitehall for the morning, then he was back home in the afternoon. Martin was catching on fairly quickly and was getting quite good at subtly suggesting he might like to sit down or take a break, and he was grateful for the young man's polite diversions. 

He checked his phone to see that Imogen had sent him a picture of the bouquet that had been delivered. She really was very talented. He would wait a few days, then send something else. He really was pleased to see Anthea was doing so well in her consultancy business; he fancied he had taught her a good deal in the years she had worked for him, and he was glad she was getting some use out of it. 

Jennifer had to come in and ask what she'd like to do for lunch before Anthea realized how long she'd been working, "I think that I am going to go for a walk to the local cafe, stretch my legs," she grabbed her coat and bag before heading out, sending a quick text as she did so. Part of her morning had been thinking of a good way to thank Mycroft for the bouquet without sounding contrite.

[SMS to M Holmes] I see that Imogen continues to do well in the florist industry. – A

Mycroft's phone buzzed as he was in his car, headed back to his home for lunch. He smiled, and typed a quick reply as the car pulled up in front of the townhouse. 

{SMS to A Jones]I've always been pleased with her work. -M

"Sir? Would you like my assistance this afternoon?" Martin asked, sitting forward. 

He was tempted to say no, but having Martin available would be useful. "I would, yes. I expect I may need help with moving some file boxes, I'm getting to the bottom of the first one."

Martin merely nodded and followed Mycroft inside to the kitchen, where Mycroft set out a platter his housekeeper had left with the makings for sandwiches and some fresh vegetables. "Lunch first, you see - I'm learning," Mycroft quipped, handing Martin a plate. 

"I think you've just discovered that you feel better when you take time to refuel yourself, sir," Martin replied with a wry grin. 

Anthea ate quickly, finishing and taking a roundabout route back to the office. She didn’t know what to do about Mycroft and his flowers. It was hard to see past the womanizing man who lay broken in a bed while she quietly begged for him to come back. He never need know, though, Mycroft did not need any reason to wish to see her more than he already did, it would be easier on them all that way.

By the time Mycroft finished his day, he was exhausted and short tempered, and doing his best to not take it out on Martin. He was frustrated at the slow healing process, frustrated by his continual lack of sleep, frustrated that he'd been caught out on his flaws no matter how needed a comeuppance it was.

After the fourth or fifth pointed remark in his direction, Martin slipped what he was working on into his bag. "Right. Sir, I'm not taking this personally, but you're in a horrible mood. I don't know what exactly the continuing problems are in your recovery as you don't trust me enough to share that yet. I'm leaving for the day and I'm going to have your therapist drop by later." He paused, considering whether he should go on. 

Mycroft nodded and gestured for him to continue.

"Maybe you should take tomorrow off - you weren't expected back for another month in any case. I'm sure there are projects suffering without your input and guiding hand, but they aren't anything you've worked on the past week."

Mycroft went a bit pale at that, but he nodded. "Thank you, Martin. Come by at lunchtime tomorrow - I'll do my best to get you completely up to speed then." 

Sighing with relief, Martin nodded. "Of course, sir. Have a pleasant evening." he said, leaving. 

An hour later, Mycroft's therapist showed up and Mycroft actually allowed him to delve into the deeper feelings and emotions he was trying to cope with. It was progress, very slow, but progress indeed. 

Anthea spent the rest of the day working on little projects that would get her name out there. She was working her way up in the esteem of people, more new contacts coming in everyday with concerns that they needed help with. Helping others with their plights helped her with the emotional healing process of what she and Mycroft had gone through. It was difficult going, and she knew that she should see someone about it all, but all Anthea could bring herself to do was continue to work.  
Evening came and Anthea sent Jennifer home, and ended up there herself, bringing the bouquet home to settle on her kitchen table. She pulled out her leftovers from the previous night to heat up for her dinner, then stared at them to find a deeper meaning to the already deep meaning behind the flowers.

Mycroft had another sandwich for dinner, not feeling up to eating much else, and was in bed soon after that with a book. It had never bothered him before, but he hated how big, empty, and quiet the house was. He felt very alone since Anthea left his employ; he had relied on her for so much more than just her stated duties as his PA. The boundaries had been very blurry. It was tempting to just pick up the phone and text her, but he knew there was little he could say that she would take seriously and sincerely. 

Anthea went for a run a little while later, trying to stay fit despite all of her office work. She would not be caught by surprise one day by any old enemies and be unable to defend herself. Shower after her run, then into bed, she was lying there with her thoughts and unable to comprehend what she should do about the ever present Mycroft-shaped hole in her life though she tried to forget. It wasn't until half two in the morning before she finally fell asleep.

Mycroft slept surprisingly well, far better than the night before. Less nightmares, although he'd forgotten to take a pain pill and his ankle was throbbing angrily at him by the time he woke up around eight. Maybe he would just take it easy this morning. He could hear his housekeeper puttering around downstairs, and he called down to her that he'd have breakfast an in hour, after he got out of the bath. At least Mrs OIsen hadn't left him - good housekeepers were hard to find, almost as much as PAs. 

When he went down for breakfast, ankle feeling much better for meds and a leisurely soak, Mrs Olsen was taking her break and his breakfast was waiting for him, keeping warm under a cover on the stove. He found he was very hungry, and polished off the omelette, toast, and ham with gusto, garnering approving looks from her as they sipped tea together. 

"Do be careful in the foyer and parlour if you go in there this morning, dear, as I've waxed the floors," she warned him, before going off to tidy upstairs. He thanked her for the warning, taking the rest of his tea into his office to do some research on his next floral message. 

Anthea's morning was routine, calm, and completely expected. She and Jennifer worked their way through piles of paperwork and full inboxes of emails, both of them hardly taking a moment to breathe during lunch then right back at it for the rest of the afternoon.

She was glad to have Jennifer, Anthea reflected. She was a stellar assistant and an even more decent person to spend all of her time with. It made Anthea happy that she had decided to hire the quiet woman to assist her in her new ventures.

Mycroft spent the afternoon with Martin, going over what exactly had happened to him in Italy and the trouble he was having sitting around doing nothing. 

Martin was grateful to understand his employer a bit better, and promised to liberate some files that had been languishing at the office awaiting Mycroft's return. 

His systems at home were just as secure as the ones at work, and he'd feel better actually working on the things nobody else had access to, rather than catching up on the mundane things with lower clearances. He suggested to Martin that they should bring on a few more clerical assistants to deal with some of that, and Martin promised to get on that first thing in the morning. 

Anthea’s office ran efficiently and hard, working both women quite exhausted by the end of the work week when they allowed themselves some respite from their workload. They weren't being irresponsible - to the contrary - they planned their schedule to allow for relaxation over the weekends. Anthea had plans to travel out to the country for a night or two and go walking in fields this weekend. It was entirely ridiculous, but she knew that the respite would be good for her.

Mycroft called Imogen again on Thursday afternoon, requesting another bouquet to arrive on Friday after lunch. He kept the white star of bethlehem in the middle, but surrounded them with scarlet geraniums and white violets with a sprig of oak leaves. 

He thought he might spend the weekend in Sussex with his mother, if he could convince her to not fuss over him too much. 

She and Jennifer were coming back into the office Friday afternoon after lunch when they encountered a boy delivering another bouquet of flowers.

"I'll let you deal with those, Jennifer," Anthea frowned and walked back into her office to begin working. She only had a few more files to go through before she dealt with the flowers.

"Ms. Jones," Jennifer was half smiling when she walked into her office at the end of the day, "As much as I've enjoyed looking at those flowers all day, they are for you. Do you know who your secret admirer is?"

"More like an old friend trying to get back in contact," that was the least painful way to explain it. There wasn't much to say about what was going on because she didn't even know. Why was Mycroft sending her these well planned out bouquets instead of just talking to her? With an eye roll, she took the flowers and went home, sending him a message when she got in the car.

[SMS to M Holmes] Are these just flowers or are you trying to send me a message? Whichever it is, I find it highly confusing and would appreciate some clarification upon this matter. - A

Mycroft was just finishing packing for his weekend at the estate when he got Anthea's text. He frowned, sitting down on the edge of his bed as he thought of a response. 

[SMS to A Jones] If the flowers come from Imogen's, you can be sure they were carefully selected and arranged with a message in mind. -M

So the message was specific and planned precisely for her to read and understand. The primary message as far as he research found was love, devotion, atonement and patience. She didn't respond to him until she got home, giving herself time to plan.

[SMS to M Holmes] I am uninterested in one night stands, even if I'm a fond friend that you occasionally call up for it. Please stop any advances in this topic. - A

Mycroft was in the car, being driven out to the countryside, when her message came through. What in the world was she talking about? 

[SMS to A Jones] I beg your pardon? In what possible way could I have even implied such a thing with a bouquet meant to confer candid admiration of your bravery and my continued atonement for my many sins? -M

She was getting a bit frustrated with him as she started to make dinner for herself. Had she not spent the last four years at his side watching him flirt his way up women's skirts similar to this situation a hundred times? Or did he forget that she knew him well?

[SMS to M Holmes] I see. Do you forget that I've seen you worm your way up the skirt of nearly every woman that we've met? Some of them have been similar situations such as this, how could I not make the logical leap? - A

That hurt a bit. Well, more than a bit, if he were honest (and he was trying to be honest with himself and others, these days). He shook his head sadly and replied. 

[SMS to A Jones] I suppose you could consider that I nearly died and that has brought about a change in my priorities, or consider that I have never once approached you in such a fashion. I merely wished you to know how much I admire you and how utterly grateful I am to you for saving my life. My apologies. –M

"Oh," Anthea sat down heavily in a chair, reading his last message a few too many times and feeling like a fool. What was she thinking? She didn't know anymore, and she felt as though she hardly knew Mycroft Holmes anymore.

[SMS to M Holmes] I'm sorry, of course you were not. There is no need to apologise, I think that I might have been over reacting to your efforts of thanking me. – A

He sighed, gazing out the window at the countryside as it sped by. Perhaps he should have just sent a thank you note and been done with it, but that seemed like such inadequate thanks when it was his life he owed her. The nurses said she'd spent the rest of her two week notice sitting at his side. He had still been in a drug-induced coma then, and he vaguely remembered her speaking to him from time to time, although he couldn't hope to recall anything she said. Probably berating him for being such an idiot. It didn't matter, she clearly wanted to move on with her life and he would have to let her do so.

[SMS to A Jones] I understand. I wish you every success in your new endeavour. -M

It seemed as though Mycroft was tired of trying to talk to her, make her understand what his actions meant and was cutting ties. She sighed, putting her head down on the table and laughing at how ridiculous all of this was. Once there had been no need for them to speak to know what the other was trying to communicate, and now it seemed that their old ways of being able to communicate had been eradicated by confusion. Now neither one knew how to fix it and it seemed like Mycroft wanted it to end. Anthea found that she actually didn’t want that to happen.

[SMS to M Holmes] Thank you, I hope that Martin is working out well for you? He wasn't from the list that I left for you to find a new assistant from. - A

Mycroft was surprised to get a text back. Why was life so confusing now? The car was pulling up to the estate, and he wrinkled his nose, firing back a quick reply to her question about Martin.

[SMS to A Jones] We're still getting to know each other, but he has excellent potential. He came in on the recommendation of Carstairs' PA who just retired, you remember Agatha? She had been training him to replace her, but thought he'd work out better with me. He's incredibly intuitive and very bright. I will warn you I've just arrived at the Estate for the weekend and you know how my mother is about mobiles. -M

Anthea was glad that someone was looking after Mycroft, and it sounded like this Martin was an interesting enough character to pair up with her former employer and serve him well.

[SMS to M Holmes] Oh dear, you'd better hide it so that she doesn't confiscate it like the last time. Poor Martin might not know to call the estate phone if yours won’t pick up, and he'd have to throw on a full investigation for you. - A

She was teasing him, a bit like they used to, but with much more freedom than she ever took before. As much as Anthea loved Mrs. Holmes, she knew how to pick her battles with her sons well, and one of the hills she would die on was them spending uninterrupted time with her.

He laughed at her teasing reply as the car came to a stop, risking one last message before entering the house. 

[SMS to A Jones] I certainly don't need to panic the poor lad this early in our working relationship. Have a good weekend. -M

He pocketed the phone after making sure it was on silent mode, and stepped out of the car to greet his mother, who had come out to the front steps. 

Anthea chuckled to herself, taking the hint that he quite honestly wanted to spend a nice weekend home on the estate with his mother. She could not fault him for that, and she was sure his mother was quite protective over him still. She had called the Holmes matriarch right away and Violet had met her in London when they arrived from Italy, then spent every few days down at Mycroft's bedside to send Anthea home to ‘bathe, for goodness sakes!’

It had been an interesting two weeks before she left with a short word to her, and a few notes for her replacement.  
"Mycroft! Oh, darling, you look so much better than just a few weeks ago," Violet exclaimed, holding him at arm's length for a moment before hugging him briefly. "Come along, dinner's almost ready, Frank will get your bags from the car."

He returned the hug, following his mother to the dining room. Dinner was simple and delicious, roast chicken with potatoes, fresh beans from the garden, and a berry cobbler. Afterward, they sat on the outdoor terrace in side-by-side lounge chairs, sipping prosecco and talking about anything and everything. He had to stifle his laughter at Violet's indignation that her favourite party planner had the audacity to have got married and had a baby and taken a year off. Rather than trust someone else with her annual July garden party, Violet had taken over all the planning herself. 

"You might call Anthea if you want assistance, she's set herself up in some kind of consultancy - although I don't know if that extends to garden parties," Mycroft suggested. 

"She had mentioned as much when I saw her at the hospital," Violet replied. "I'll think about it. Perhaps she can just find me a new party planner. I offered to let Melanie bring the baby and even hire a nanny for her, but she just said I was lovely and very kind and she was sure I could do it without her." 

Mycroft laughed, shaking his head. "Smart Melanie. You'll have her back next year, I'm sure." 

After a while longer, Mycroft excused himself to head to bed, secretly pleased he'd been given one of the ground floor guest rooms, as he didn't relish the climb to the third floor and his usual suite that evening with his still-dodgy ankle. His mother said she was renovating - no matter the reason, he was still grateful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A longer note on flower meanings this week. Sit down, kiddos, Auntie Voxy's gonna learn you a thing. 
> 
>  
> 
> There are conflicting meanings for some flowers, and colors are important, hence Anthea's confusion for Mycroft's message with his second bouquet. She didn't look up the colors, but he did! I use a variety of sources and yes, I pick and choose to get the meanings I want for specific chapters. Author privilege ;) 
> 
> Flower language is not an exact science. 
> 
> Daffodil, for example, has many meanings. Here, Mycroft is using it to ask for forgiveness he feels he doesn't quite deserve yet, as it's tempered by the centre Star of Bethlehem, which commonly means atonement. 
> 
> Scarlet Geranium can mean "comfort" or "stupidity" - Mycroft was going for the second meaning there but also for the overarching meaning of geranium, which is "esteem"; and while a regular violet means "love", WHITE violet means "candor". The sprig of oak was for the leaves, which mean "bravery" (Anthea's, not his) - still keeping the Star of Bethlehem as he's still atoning for his atrocious behavior.
> 
>  
> 
> Also, what's that? You think we're totally rad and wish you could follow us on tumblr? FRIENDO, YOU CAN. 
> 
> foxy-voxy.tumblr.com  
> mycthelittlehobbit.tumblr.com


	8. Hawthorne and Blue Hyacinth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A trip to the countryside, a chance meeting, and Mummy Holmes is meddling. Gently.

With a bit of a lighter heart, Anthea set about packing her bag for a quick weekend jaunt around the countryside. She hoped to fit in a couple of longer walks in the moors while she was out and about.

She rose early the next morning with the sun, slinging her pack across her back and heading out to her car to get a head start on the day. On her way out of town she stopped off at a small bakery that she recalled as one of Mycroft's favorites to frequent, then started driving out in earnest to find somewhere to get lost.

The next morning was fair and sunny, and Mycroft had a leisurely breakfast with his mother before going out to the stable and having one of the horses harnessed to a cart for driving. He didn't feel quite up to a ride nor a long walking ramble, but a drive in the country lanes sounded like a perfect idea. 

She was driving south today, and, as she had found out the night before, towards the area that Mycroft was. Quite close, really. Perhaps she'd go walk around the area that the Holmes Estate was in. Anthea had always found the landscape pretty as they'd passed it, why not actually take some time to explore the land?  
It was a reckless idea, and if she was honest with herself, she almost wanted to see if she would run into either of the Holmes while she went around on her impromptu tour of the area. Parking along the side of the road, in a more closed off looking area, Anthea grabbed her bag and got out of the car, then started to walk down a gravel path along a tree line.

Violet had come out of the house with a ridiculously large picnic hamper before he'd got on his way, and Mycroft was glad she had, because the fresh country air made breakfast seem a rather long time ago. He'd forgotten what simple joy it was to be in a horse-cart behind a smooth-moving animal. He needed to come out to the country far more often. 

Anthea had been out walking for nearly an hour, and it was getting close to noon according to her stomach so she turned and started heading back towards where her car was when she spotted someone driving a horse just ahead around the bend. She moved to the side of the path in the grass so that they could get by and she could continue on her way. It was with a bit of an ironic jolt that she realized who was ahead of her. Of course she had half hoped that she might meet him, but honestly, what were the chances of this encounter actually happening?  
"Good morning," she called with a slight wave, a bit unsure as to what to do.

Mycroft raised his hand in greeting, prepared to drive on by, when he realized just who was standing there by the side of the path. "Well. It certainly is a good morning now," he replied with a smile, reining in the horse and stopping. "I see we had similar ideas of how to spend our weekends." 

"It seems that we did," she half laughed. He looked so at ease up there, calm and sure of himself, "This setting suits you, out here in the country. You didn't much get out here in the past if I recall," she looked around a bit, trying to figure out what to say.

"No, I didn't. But I think I'll have to begin making time for it. I'd forgotten how lovely and peaceful it is," he replied with an easy smile. "Where are you headed? Can Bess and I give you a lift?" 

"I was just headed back to my car to go in search of somewhere to find lunch, there's no need for you to try to find your way back with me," she smiled reassuringly at him, then turned to Bess to give her some attention, "Hello there beautiful lady, taking care of my friend here?" she gently pet the mare's nose and wished dearly that she had an apple to feed her.

"Ah, yes, lunch. I may be able to assist you with that, if you like. My mother sent a picnic with me that is enough for four people," Mycroft said with a sheepish grin. "I don't know if she was expecting me to happen upon underfed urchins in my ramblings or just had a very fanciful over-estimate of my appetite - but I'd be pleased to share with you."

Anthea looked to him from her place by Bess. "Are you sure that I wouldn’t be intruding? You've nowhere to be, or anyone to meet?" She still felt a bit bad about what she had thought of him earlier, and was sure that it had upset him to have read them.

Mycroft shook his head. "Nobody to meet, nowhere to be. Well, I presume my mother would like it if I came back by dinner time, but that's hours away," he explained, possibly unnecessarily, holding out a hand to help her up to sit beside him in the cart. 

With a bit of a sheepish smile, she took his hand and climbed up next to him, dropping her bag in back by the large picnic basket, "I would hate to keep you from her, she does worry for you," Anthea pointed out. "She really sent you a large basket of food, perhaps she expected you to find a group of homeless people to share with?"

"Woodland creatures, perhaps," Mycroft suggested, clicking at Bess to get her moving again. "Although I don't know what use rabbits have for ham sandwiches," he mused. "I'm sure she won't worry too much about me today; Bess knows the way home, so even if I get lost, she'll eventually head back for her oats."

He had Anthea laughing with his commentary within moments, "I doubt that you'd get lost, you've an excellent sense of direction," she teased Mycroft. "So, are we searching for a good spot to hitch Bess to and then eat lunch, or have you a place in mind?"

"There is a lovely little copse of trees up here, if you don't mind pushing your way through a gap in a blackberry bramble," Mycroft suggested, the little wooded area coming into view as they came up and over a gentle hill. "It used to be one of Sherlock's favorite hiding spots, all cool and shady," he explained. 

This was the oddest day. He wasn't complaining, Anthea had always been good company and he had missed her; he was grateful she would even give him the time of day. 

"You have broader shoulders, I can get through the bramble if you can," she smiled, "What about you? Do you have any secret hiding places throughout these fields?" She looked around, trying to imagine a younger version of Mycroft running around the fields. It wasn’t something she could easily imagine.

"Hiding spots, no. I always let someone know where I was going," Mycroft confessed, "but there's a weeping willow in the garden that I liked to sit under and read. You've seen it, the one right by the duck pond." 

They were approaching the copse, and he brought Bess to a stop, carefully climbing down and looping the reins around a sturdy tree branch before offering Anthea his hand to climb down.

"I recall seeing it, yes," she pictured the estate gardens, "That sounds picturesque, and very perfect for you." Anthea smiled and took his hand, stepping down to the ground. She looked him in the eye as she did this, her breath catching a bit so she dropped his hand and turned to grab her backpack and his picnic basket.

Mycroft was similarly affected by the simple touch, clearing his throat as he took the basket from her and led the way through the gap in the brambles, pushing them aside as best he could. "It was best in the summer, when the branches got all the way to the ground. Peaceful and quiet, and both things were a hot commodity with Sherlock around," he said, laughing softly. There was a blanket in the basket, and he shook it out, spreading it over the soft grass amid the circle of trees and bramble. 

Anthea followed him carefully through the bramble, "Was Sherlock so bad as a child? I know he gives you trouble, but he seems to have a good heart." She helped him to spread out the blanket then let him start pulling things out of the basket.

"No, he wasn't so bad, and he does have a good heart. He was just into everything all at once, and loud, and had less tact than is typical, even for a child. He was utterly exhausting," Mycroft replied, sitting on the blanket and pulling all sorts of containers from the basket. There were sandwiches with all different kinds of fillings, crisps, biscuits, fruit, cheese, fresh baguette, and a few bottles of sparkling water. "Well, Mummy and Cook seem to have outdone themselves with this. I could run away for a week on what we have here."

"She has a positively occult sense, I should think. Why would she send all of this if she knew that you would be eating alone?" Anthea chuckled and picked up a sandwich to eat. She sat cross legged on the blanket adjacent to him and admiring the view around them.

Mycroft started his lunch with a ripe peach, hastily grabbing a napkin as the juice ran down his chin. "I'm not at all sure. I know I'm still quite thin from everything that happened, perhaps they just wanted to be sure I had an enticing variety," he said with a shrug. "Still, it was rather serendipitous to happen upon such pleasant company."

Anthea looked away from him quickly when he bit into the peach, it was a bit too enticing. "It's very lovely company, I'm glad that we found one another," Anthea ate half of the sandwich, then to grab the container of mixed berries and grapes, "Are you... Are you healing well from the incident?"

Mycroft went for brie and baguette next, cracking open a bottle of water as well. "I am, thank you. My ankle and ribs are still somewhat tender, and my headaches are sometimes worse than they used to be, but overall, I'm well on the way to recovered, at least physically," he explained between bites, stretching his long legs out on the blanket. The mental recovery was something else. 

Physically he seemed on track, good. That didn't say anything to his mental state, which she was sure was somewhat tenuous right now. "I'm glad to hear that you're doing better. Have you been seeing someone for the mental trauma?" it might be too invasive of a question, but she needed to know that he was being taken care of in all ways that he needed.

Amused, he smiled. Trust her to still try to take care of him, even though it wasn't her job any longer. Old habits die hard. "I have. I think I've been making good progress in the last week or so; my nightmares have been far less frequent, and much less vivid when they do come," he replied quietly, looking down at the weave of the blanket. It was difficult to admit any weakness, even to the woman who had seen him broken and bleeding. 

Nightmares... She wouldn't pretend that she hadn't had them, but more often she didn't dream at all which was a blessing for her, "You always had a hard time sleeping, I'm sure that it wasn't helpful with the nightmares. Therapy's working, though? Martin isn't letting you over work yourself? My assistant is constantly hounding me to have lunch and to make sure that I go home at a decent hour," Anthea smiled sheepishly. It seemed that since she had risen up, her habits had grown to be just as bad as Mycroft's had been.

"Martin has quickly learned the fine art of putting me in my place whilst making me think it was my idea," Mycroft admitted with a smile, glancing over at her. "Something you always excelled at, as well. And the therapy is working. I'm dealing with a lot of things, many that I ought to have dealt with years ago. It's good." 

Anthea reached out a hand and patted his knee with a smile, "I'm so glad," she smiled warmly at him, "I worry for you still sometimes, I think that I'd like it if we were friends, kept each other up to date on our lives," she suggested. Hopefully he wanted the same, if not, well, she'd make a happy fool of herself at least putting the notion out there.

Mycroft covered Anthea's hand with his own, giving her fingers a gentle squeeze before letting go. "I'd like that, too," he replied. "Perhaps we could meet for lunch or dinner a couple of times a month," he suggested, hoping that didn't seem too forward or needy. 

"That sounds like something that we can fit into our schedules," she agreed readily. Anthea hoped that it turned out to be more frequent than that, but she understood that he needed time, and she likely needed just as much space.

"Has business been good for you?" He asked, stealing a strawberry out of the container near her. "You looked busy the other day."

"It's been going well, very busy. Some of the people who we used to work with heard that I was branching out and have been sending me some of their work," she picked up a blueberry and ate it, leaning back on one hand to soak up a bit of sun, "I've been going through and checking peoples security plans for trips, giving my input on organising some events nationwide, and most recently negotiating between two companies in Osaka, Japan on a merger. Nothing major, just enough to begin with though."

She certainly was doing very well for herself. "That must be a nice change of pace to have some private sector dealings as well as government contracts," he observed. "I continue to regret the tipping point which led you to resign, but seeing what you've accomplished thus far tells me you made the right decision."

"Thank you, as much as I loved working with you, and believe me when I say that I did, I do enjoy being the one to do all of the work now," she did not know how to address the 'tipping point' comment, nor how to explain that that was part of it, the other part simply her striving to make a name for herself.

"I suspect being in charge is good for you," he replied, then added, slyly, "I always thought you were a bit of a bossy boots - but no complaints, you kept me and all my plates spinning and everything going on time. I rather think Martin is lucky, getting a few weeks of only dealing with me part-time to ease into the position."

Anthea laughed heartily at his comment, "You impossible man, if I wasn't so assertive with you we would not have gotten half the work that we needed to get through done, and you know it," she couldn't stop smiling, "I'm sure Martin will look back and appreciate this one day."

Mycroft laughed at being called 'impossible' as he poked around in the picnic basket, looking for dessert. He knew it had to be in there somewhere. "Ah ha! Brownies!" he exclaimed, popping the lid from the container. "May I tempt you, my dear?" he asked Anthea, holding it out for her. 

"Why yes you can, dear sir," she grinned and picked up a brownie, taking a bite and having to hold back a tiny moan, "These are delicious, I'm quite sure they're laced with something," she joked at the heavenly taste.

"Maybe you can weasel it out of Cook, she's never told me, just pushes me out of the kitchen with a ‘never-you-mind’. I think she still thinks of me as twelve or so," Mycroft replied, shaking his head.

"I'll have to see if I can get it out of her one day," she grinned. So their cook had been around since Mycroft was a young boy? Anthea was sure that she had quite a few stories to tell about the Holmes men from when they were young.

"That reminds me - you might be hearing from my mother. Her party planner got married, had a baby, and took the year off, and she's trying to get her annual garden party organized by herself. I suggested she give you a call and let you find her a new party planner - whether she will, I have no idea, but she likes you, so I'd say it's a good chance," Mycroft explained. "As for Cook, well, I can only wish you the best of luck."

"I'll have to have one ready, then," Anthea chuckled. "You referred me to your mother? I'm flattered Mycroft," she teased him, happy. Perhaps he still did trust her quite a bit if he was referring her to his mother.

"Of course I did, I'm well aware of the quality of your work," Mycroft scoffed, taking a sip of water. "Just don't let her harangue you into doing it yourself. She'll try."

"I'll explain that I'm busy, but I'd be happy to supply her someone to work with," Anthea acknowledged. She would have to keep in mind to not let Mrs. Holmes con her into planning the entire party with her.

He toasted her with his sparkling water. "Good luck with that." He set the bottle down and laid down on his back with a pleased sigh, watching the sunlight filter through the green leaves above. "I'm not glad, precisely, that I was kidnapped, but it has forced me to slow down and remember there's a world outside of politics and intrigues and the city," he said, tucking his hands behind his head. 

Mycroft was so relaxed looking, and at ease, she almost wondered what would happen if... But that would be entirely too imprudent. "I like getting out of the city at least once every few weeks, usually to somewhere like this and I go for a long walk and try to get myself a little bit lost," she took a bottle of water and opened it to take a sip.

"Well, I'm not surprised that you've known all along what I've been learning like a firstie at school - you are frightfully clever," he replied, looking at her with a smile. "Hopefully I won't forget my lessons once the work takes over my life again."

"If you don't mind walks, I'd invite you to come with me," she smiled, "It's a fantastic way to spend the weekends, and I would not mind the company," she offered.

"I like walks, I just wasn't feeling up to a very long one yet. Another few weeks and I shall be right as rain," he replied, grinning as he thought of something. "Miss Jones, are you inviting me on a weekend mini-break? Goodness, shouldn't you at least take me to dinner first?" he teased, a good-natured smirk on his face. 

"I don't need to take you to dinner because you've already taken me on a picnic and buggy ride in the country," she almost added the adjective of a romantic picnic and buggy ride in the country, but she stopped herself from saying it. They were just friends.

"Touche," he murmured. This entire day had done him well, from the fresh air to the mildly flirtatious banter. Well, he would classify it as flirtatious with any other woman, but Anthea had made it _quite_ clear he wasn't to think of her in that way, and he'd rather have her in his life as a friend than not have her in his life at all. 

Anthea laughed lightly, having won that little discussion then mirrored Mycroft's pose, laying a hand over her eyes to block the midday sun. This was nice, relaxing, a brilliant way to reconnect with someone to form, perhaps, a deeper friendship.

A full stomach and the warm day soon had Mycroft dozing lightly, utterly relaxed. He definitely understood why Sherlock had run off to this spot so much and why he always seemed calmer and happier when he would return. 

Anthea lay stretched out beside Mycroft, completely lost in thought and perhaps she succumbed to the soporific effects of their luncheon and the warm sun on her skin.

The sun was a bit lower in the sky when Mycroft woke; glancing at his watch, he saw it was around three in the afternoon. Looking over to the side, he saw Anthea had also been brought down by the twin evils of carbohydrates and sunshine. He sat up and stretched, then leaned over and gently shook her by the shoulder. "Wake up, sleeping beauty," he said softly. 

Anthea jolted awake, eyes flown open wide and fixed on Mycroft's face, absorbing their surroundings, "Right, we fell asleep? What time is it?" She sat up and looked at her watch, "Oh my, we sure dozed the afternoon away, didn't we?" Anthea turned and smiled ruefully at Mycroft.

"Still plenty of light left to get you back to your car, fair maiden," he quipped, "and it's not a bad way to spend an afternoon, all told."

"I'm not nervous about getting back in time, it was a fantastic way to spend the afternoon, thank you for allowing me to join you for lunch," she smiled at him and turned to help repack the basket away with the extra food.

Mycroft got to his feet and stretched, then gestured to Anthea to move the basket so he could fold the blanket up. He helped her pack everything back away in the buggy, unhitched Bess, and then climbed up, once again offering her a hand up into the contraption. 

"I can just walk from here to my car, there's no need for you to go out of your way for me," she smiled and shook her head, "thank your mother and cook for the lovely lunch, and thank you for inviting me to join you and have such wonderful company."

"If you're sure - it really isn't any trouble at all, I don't think Bess gets half the exercise she ought to," Mycroft protested weakly. 

"Well, I suppose if it's for Bess," Anthea half smiled. She really didn't want to leave him and break this strange little magical moment that they were in. She reached up for his hand and settled herself beside him.

"Of course," Mycroft replied, flicking the reins and sending Bess moving down the path. "Now if you'll just point me in the direction of your car?" He was glad she had accepted. He liked sitting close beside her in the buggy with the warmth of a pleasant afternoon spent together between them.

"For one, I think that it's behind us," she chuckled lightly, "By the main road," Anthea didn't mind the extra time Mycroft figured his way around the paths to lead them to her car.

"Oh dear," Mycroft laughed, finding a decent spot to turn the buggy around, heading them the right way down the path this time, toward the main road. "I must have just wanted to spend as much time as possible in such amusing company."

"You old charmer," she laughed and bumped her shoulder into his lightly while watching the road ahead, "I think it was in that direction more," Anthea pointed out, "You're quite good at this, you should think about doing it part time through Hyde Park as a hobby," she teased.

"Oh yes, I'll just spend my weekends and holidays as a consulting buggy driver, how droll," Mycroft retorted, heading in the direction Anthea pointed. He could hear muffled traffic noise - must be on the right track. 

"Droll? Really? I think it's nice. Good company, new destinations to travel to," she laughed, trying to imagine him all dressed up for the part, "I suppose that would be too droll for such a well travelled and experienced man," Anthea agreed.

"Having to cart around parties of intoxicated clubgoers and tourists with their unruly children? No thank you. I'll stick to the country where the only passengers I have are of my choosing," he replied. "And ha ha, yes, I certainly am well-travelled. I don't think I've gone this long without having to leave the country in a decade, if not longer."

"You poor well travelled thing," Anthea crooned gently to him, petting his cheek gently, "I have hardly left the country since we got back from Italy, but I have a trip planned for Osaka pending the merger goes well," she informed him.

It took every ounce of self-preservation Mycroft possessed to keep him from leaning into her petting, but he managed. "Have you been to Osaka before? It's a lovely city with interesting history. You'll enjoy it," he said.

"I haven't, and I've asked for someone to recommend me a tour, or provide someone who will take me around," Anthea smiled, "It should be a very fun experience, and certainly a career boost for me if it all goes well."

"I wish you every success, I can think of no-one more deserving," he replied. "Ah, I do believe we have found your car, my dear. If you're looking for somewhere to stay tonight, there is an inn about three miles up the road that is an excellent combination of charm and cleanliness."

"I'm not sure if I want to stay for the night yet, thank you for the recommendation though, I might look into it," Anthea smiled at him. She almost could not bear the thought of staying just a few miles away and not seeing him for a few more weeks when they decided to have dinner or lunch together again.

Mycroft nodded, bringing Bess to a stop far away enough from the road that she wouldn't spook from any traffic. "Let me know your schedule for the next fortnight and when you might be available for lunch or dinner - I fear you have the more complicated life at the moment," he said with a sheepish smile, rubbing the back of his neck. 

Mycroft looked so odd to her as more of a peer now, rather than her boss. Anthea grinned, "Shall I have my PA confer with your PA on an open time for us to meet up for lunch or dinner?" her eyes danced with mirth over their newly formed ways of organizing meetings with one another. She leaned in then, pecking him on the cheek, "I really had a lovely time, Mycroft. I look forward to seeing you again soon."

"Oh, if you like - but I think in this case you can just send me a text. Or call me. Or email - unless you fancy going through our PA's. Could be amusing," he replied, brushing a kiss across her cheek in return. "Have a lovely evening, my dear. Thank you for the excellent company."

He seemed to be fumbling about all the different ways they could communicate to get together for a meal in the coming weeks. It made Anthea warm inside when she saw it. "Right, well, have a lovely evening. I think that I am going to go check out that inn you suggested, right up that way?" She gestured down the road the way that she hadn't come from

Mycroft nodded. "About three miles or so by the road. You can't miss it," he called, clucking at Bess and turning back down the path. 

Anthea watched him ride off for a moment before he turned a corner in the road and then she got in her car and started driving. The landscape was beautiful and becoming more familiar the closer she got to three miles, and by the time she reached the 'inn' that Mycroft had suggested, she was at Holmes Manor, parked in the driveway and frowning. Did she dare go knock on the door and say hello Mrs. Holmes, oh, by the way your son invited me to stay the night, I hope you don't mind?

Mycroft was well on his way back to the house before he began to second-guess what he'd just done. Hopefully Anthea (and his mother) would be amused by his little deception. He had been having such a good time that he didn't want it to end. There was no pretense, no needing to be suave and charming; he could be himself, warts and all, around her, and it was very refreshing. 

She could still leave, just turn the car around and go back the way that she had come and pretend like she'd never went to see where he had suggested she spend the night. It would be so easy, but it also felt like taking a step backwards in their odd little friendship forming, and that wasn’t something that Anthea wanted. So, she grabbed her pack and got out of the car, going to knock on the front door with a fair bit more confidence than she truly had, throwing herself onto Mrs. Holmes' hospitality.

While Mycroft was meandering back to the estate, lost in thought (really, thank goodness Bess knew the way), Violet had noticed a car pull up in the drive while she was reading in the front room. She peeked out the window and was surprised to see Anthea approaching the door and knocking. Still, it would be lovely to chat with her again. She went around to the foyer and opened the door. 

"Anthea! What an absolutely pleasant surprise!" she said with a wide, genuine smile. "Come in, dear." 

"Hello Mrs. Holmes, how have you been?" she asked with a gentle smile. "I ran into Mycroft while taking a walk around the countryside and he fooled me into coming here to stay. I won't, but I thought that I would just pop in to say hello and catch up," Anthea would not impose on Mrs. Holmes, but if they insisted that she stay, she would be hard pressed to say no. Besides, she wanted to somehow get one back on Mycroft for doing this to her.

Violet laughed, beckoning her in. "Oh, but you're here now, so you must. Won't that just serve him right?" She commented, holding the door open wide. "He used to be quite the practical joker when he was a boy - it seems as though he's taken up the sport once more. He hasn't returned yet - I have to assume he was at least polite enough to share his lunch?" 

"Yes he did, it was quite good. Especially the dessert, I must pester whoever made the brownies for the recipe," Anthea stepped inside to the expansive home and smiled. "You are also very kind to let me stay, Mrs. Holmes. As I understand it, the two of you were having a quiet weekend together?"

"You're welcome to try to weasel Alice's brownie recipe out of her, but she won't even share it with me - so I wish you luck," Violet replied, then turned to Frank, who had come from the kitchen. "Frank, could you get Ms Jones' bags from her car? You can put her in the Hawthorn room, across from Mycroft -" she turned back to Anthea, "He usually stays in his rooms upstairs, but I didn't want him to have to worry about all those stairs with his ankle. Why don't you come through to the library - would you like a cup of tea?"

"Oh, thank you that would be lovely," Anthea gave her keys to Frank then followed Violet to the library, "Mycroft says that he's been healing well since the incident, but we both know that he's not likely to tell anyone if he's hurting. How has he been, truly?"

"I think he's been frightfully lonely," Violet replied, curling into a comfortable armchair after poking her head into the kitchen and asking Alice to bring them a tea tray. "I usually have to pester him to come out for a visit, but he called me in the middle of the week to make sure I would be at home this weekend. Normally he'd just show up if he were feeling like a break whether I'm here or not."

Middle of the week... That would likely be just after they had had their first awkward encounter. Anthea hadn't known how to handle seeing a mostly well Mycroft, and he had been a bit uncertain around her. "Well, I think that he and I have reconnected, so hopefully that will give him another person to lean on when he's feeling lonely," she reassured Violet.

"I'm so glad to hear it. I think this entire fiasco has matured him, at least where relationships are concerned. He's lucky you'll give him the time of day after how he made you arrange dates and fend off his conquests. I'm afraid he learned that from his father," Violet said ruefully, shaking her head. 

"It was all part of the job," Anthea tried to hedge then change the subject, "I wonder how long it will take him to show his face to us? I almost think that he didn't think that I would come in," she said with a bit of a conspiratorial wink.

Mycroft chose that moment to walk into the library, bearing the tea tray. "Ladies, your tea," he said with a smile, setting it down on the table near Violet. "I'll just leave you to it, then-"

Violet raised an eyebrow and looked pointedly at the other end of the settee, as if to say 'you're not getting away that easily, young man.'

"-or I can join you, of course." he amended, sitting next to Anthea. "I apologise for my deception, I thought it might amuse you."

"It was very amusing, though if you wanted me to stay with you, you could have just asked," she teased him softly, her words meant mostly for him though she was sure that Violet heard everything, "Your mother was just telling me about how you used to pull tricks like this when you were younger, I never took you to be one to joke around."

"Considering the closest thing to an inn for miles is the village pub where I don't think they've mopped the floor in two hundred years, I've really done you a favour," Mycroft pointed out. "And I did enjoy playing little jokes on people when I was younger. Before I had responsibilities beyond schoolwork." 

"I told you that I was thinking about just driving back to London," Anthea insisted, "But I'm glad you invited me, I'd love to have the chance to catch up with your mother again, isn't that right Mrs. Holmes?"

"Quite right," Violet replied firmly. "Now, tea. Anthea, dear, you'll have to remind me how you take yours," she said, as she added a splash of milk to Mycroft's cup before passing it over to him. 

"One sugar and a splash of milk," Anthea answered, then reached for the cup from Violet with a thank you, "I hear that you are trying to find a new party planner for this year's summer garden party, what are you looking for in a planner? I can help you find someone suitable, if you'd like."

"I need someone who can work with all of my preferred vendors; catering, decorator, musicians, in addition to coordinating ticket sales and permits. It's a fundraiser for the local schools' gardening clubs and this is the tenth year. I don't remember it being so overwhelming when it first started!" Violet explained, sipping at her own tea.

"I'm sure that because your usual planner knew all of your vendors, it was easy for her to add on extra requests. I'll see if I can find someone who works well in this type of situation and send a few on to you to see if it works out," she took a sip of her tea carefully.

Violet beamed, delighted. "Thank you so much, that will be such an incredible help. I'll give you a call early in the week with all the details," she replied. 

Mycroft merely raised an eyebrow at Anthea that could clearly be translated as 'I told you so'. 

"I should go look some things over now - Mycroft, why don't you show Anthea to her room so she can freshen up before dinner if she likes? I've put her across from you." Violet instructed. 

"You've put her in the Hawthorn suite?" Mycroft asked pointedly. 

"Of course. Where else? You know the Amaranthus rooms need redecorating," Violet scolded, taking her tea and absconding to her office. 

Anthea stood, "So, show me to this Hawthorne suite which I shall be staying in tonight," she smiled and waited for him to lead, "Somehow I feel like your mother is trying to push us together."

"I learned a long time ago to not put anything past her," was his only response, as he offered his arm and led her down the corridor back past the foyer and then down a small hallway to the right with two doors, one on each side. He opened the left hand door and gestured that she should precede him. "The Hawthorne suite," he announced. The room was panelled with dark wood, but the carpet, curtains, and bed linens were cream with pale green accents.

"Oh," was all that she could say. It was absolutely beautiful and almost overwhelming, "This is wonderful, thank you," she turned and smiled at him, unsure of what to do now. Anthea hadn't really brought anything suitable for dining with the Holmes at their standard, but she would figure out a way to make whatever she had work; well, as soon as Mycroft left.

Dinner will be at six-thirty," Mycroft murmured, enamoured by the look of delight on her face. "I'll just be across the hall if you need anything." He stepped back into the hallway. 

"It shouldn't take me too long to get settled and straightened out," she went to her doorway, "Feel up to giving me a bit of a tour? We can just go for a walk outside so there's no stairs involved," Anthea offered with a bit of hope. She wasn't quite sure if she wanted to be left alone in the manor at the moment.

"I would be happy to," he replied. "Just knock on my door when you're ready." He smiled, and closed her door gently, going across to the room he was using for the weekend. He slipped in and closed the door, leaning back against it. What was he _doing_? He had never felt so out of his depth in his entire life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hawthorne - hope  
> Blue Hyacinth - constancy 
> 
> Violet is up to something. This should come as no surprise. As a reminder, this is pre-series 3. The Holmes patriarch isn't in the picture any longer, but Mycroft learned his bad habits at home. 
> 
> Mycroft's temporary room across the corridor is the Blue Hyacinth suite. I never did give his rooms upstairs a name. Might have to look into that. 
> 
> Anthea isn't going in the Amaranthus rooms because Amaranthus, commonly known as Love-Lies-Bleeding, means hopeless/heartless. Violet knows what she's about, because Violet is genre-savvy. And Mycroft knows what Violet is up to, although he's resisting for now. 
> 
> As always, we are @foxy-voxy and @mycthelittlehobbit on tumblr. We welcome squee in our inboxes and all-caps yelling about your rare-pair OTPs headcanons.


	9. Red Peonies and (more) Dwarf Sunflowers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A walk in the garden, more flowers, and flirting.

Anthea shut the door gently then leaned against it. Was this the same man who she had worked so closely with for four years? Who just a few short weeks ago whose indiscretion with a woman in an elevator made her jumpstart her entire life? And now she was flirting with him? These past few days seemed like a strange, accidental courtship and Mycroft was the last person that she thought could ever make her heart flutter like this, "Pull yourself together, woman. It's just Mycroft Holmes," with that, she went to her bag that she had packed, digging through for the nice pair of pants and shirt that she had packed. She wished she'd thrown that dress in that she had been eying, but was almost glad that she had not anyway.

Going into the bathroom to freshen up from her walk, Anthea was changed and feeling a bit more like her old, prim self again when she hesitantly opened her door and crossed the short distance to Mycroft's room to knock on his door.

Mycroft had changed his clothes as well, out of the more casual trousers and shirt he'd been wearing that morning and into a deep navy suit with no tie, the first couple of buttons of his shirt undone. He'd attempted to coax his hair into submission, but it hadn't done much good. He'd found out in the past few weeks that he could certainly live without Anthea in his life, but he didn't want to at all. He didn't flatter himself that she would be interested in anything but friendship, and he wouldn't blame her, not with his track record. 

"Come in," he called, from where he sat on the bed, putting his shoes on. 

"I hope that I didn't keep you waiting for too..." she lost track of her words when she caught him sitting on the bed, putting his shoes on and looking far too attractive for her state of mind. "...long. You look nice, I feel like a clot next to you, and I'm sure next to your mother as well. I didn't bring anything nice to wear along with," she tried to distract a bit from her moment of shock a second ago.

The room was similar in layout to her own, only with soft blue tones and light paneled walls. It was quite comfortable, but not as familiar as his rooms upstairs, which he looked forward to returning to on his next visit.

Mycroft finished tying his shoe, an amused smile playing on his lips as he stood. "You don't look like a clot in the least. You look lovely, as you always do," he assured her. "Is there anything specific you'd like to see in the garden?”

‘Your willow tree and bench. Show me your sanctuary,’ she thought, but couldn’t bring herself to say it. 

"Whatever we have time for, I'd just love to have a look." This was so strange, her and him, flirting? Dancing around one another as though they didn't have all of their past history together, yet they did and that made it so much the better - but so hard for either of them to say what they really wanted to, or at least what she wanted to say. What if he did not feel the same in the slightest? He likely just wanted a friend out of her, and Anthea would be quite content with that, "Also whatever doesn't stress your ankle. Can't have you incapacitated because I asked for you to show me around then you were too stubborn to say anything."

"A leisurely walk around the garden won't stress me overmuch," Mycroft assured her, leading her further into the room to a pair of French doors. "We'll just slip out this way, and we're right where we want to be," he explained, opening the doors onto a brick-paved terrace. He offered his arm and gestured to one of the garden paths. "This will take us down by the pond and the willows, if you like?" he suggested.

She took his arm lightly as they passed out of his rooms, looking around at all the splendor that he looked so at home in. "I would love to see the pond and willows," she smiled over at him as they wandered down the path, "I want to see if it is as serene as it sounds."

"I hope you won't be disappointed," Mycroft replied, "But I think you'll be quite satisfied with it. Late afternoon is always nice out there, with the sun a bit lower in the sky, it turns everything under the willow green, but you can still hear the pond and all the birds." He stopped as they passed a bed of peonies, and reached down to pluck a red one, tucking it behind her ear with a smile. "It suits you," was all the explanation he offered, as he continued to walk. 

Anthea was sure that her blush was just about as deep as the peony that he had just tucked behind her ear.

"I'm sure that it will live up to any expectations that I have," she cleared her throat slightly as they kept walking. For the second time that day, they were going to what could be considered a romantic location, alone, and he had just tucked a flower behind her ear and her hand was wrapped lightly around his arm. What were they doing?

Mycroft's own cheeks were a bit pink as the rounded the bend in the path and the pond came into view. The willow was a bit further down the path, another fifty yards or so, and he continued guiding her toward it in the fragrant summer evening air. "It seems much smaller than it was, or perhaps I've just gotten taller," he murmured, nonsensically.   
"Most likely you've gotten taller," she teased him a bit, "Perhaps your mother has old photographs of you that I can have her show me? I don't think that I know what you looked like as a boy," she smiled slightly up at him as they walked along the path.

Mycroft groaned, covering his face with his free hand. "She does. Albums and albums full. And I'm sure all you'd have to do is make the tiniest little mention," he muttered, stopping in front of the willow and parting the branches so they could step inside. 

"I might drop a hint this evening then," she smiled, walking under the branches and spying a bench to sit on, "I think that I would really like to see these pictures of you now," her grin was a bit too wide as she looked up at him from her seat. Looking beyond she had an obscure view of the lake through brilliant green leaves.

"My hair was even more ridiculous then," he muttered, sitting beside her. It was a snug fit, the bench wasn't all that wide, and he had to tuck his arm around her to fit. "I think this bench was bigger back then, too," he murmured. 

She wrapped an arm around his back too, looking up at his hair, "I happen to like your ridiculous hair," Anthea smiled, looking back at the lake, "So was this a popular spot that you used to being lady friends to when you still lived here?" She smiled, imagining fumbling teenagers trying to get into each other’s trousers on this bench.

He shook his head. "No, this would have been a little too close to the house for my taste," he said with a chuckle. "I did have my first kiss right here on this bench, though. I was thirteen, she was an older woman of fourteen, and it was all very sweet and innocent," he reminisced with a smile. "It wasn't until university, really, that I had much luck with women.”

That had Anthea in a bit of a fit of laughter. She could not imagine a time when Mycroft was not good with women, "Well, that is good to know. I suppose it is a fair bit close to the house, I wonder if your mother is spying on us?"

"When you see the pictures, you'll understand," he muttered, thinking of the awkward teen he had been. "And my mother, no. It would have been Sherlock I'd wanted to avoid. He had both binoculars and a telescope and he wasn't afraid to use them."

"No no! He didn't really, did he?" Anthea looked at him with wide eyes, then looked back out to the pond. Sitting here with Mycroft made her think of all the things that would be easy for them to do right now.

"He did. And then brought it up at dinner. 'Mycroft, what was so interesting about the barn hayloft that you had to take my French tutor in there for an hour after my lesson?' My mother scolded me, but my father was amused and pleased. And his approval was difficult to come by. I'm not blaming him for my history, but that subtle encouragement set me on the path," he explained, sighing. He really did have no excuses. "It was a game at first, then I kept telling myself I had no time for relationships to make myself feel better." He shook his head. "My apologies, you can't possibly be interested in all that."

Anthea rubbed his back softly, "It is all in the past, Mycroft," she assured him softly, "Perhaps now that you're more aware you can take the time to meet someone, take it slow and woo them." 

‘It could be me, you could court me.’ She wouldn't say that aloud; having Mycroft as a friend meant more than trying to have them fall in love with one another.

"You are far kinder to me than I deserve," Mycroft murmured, hugging her gently around her shoulders. He didn't want to meet anyone else, but he was aware that his feelings toward his former PA were incredibly confusing. "Perhaps, after some time. I'm still sorting myself out," he explained. 

\------------------

Anthea was sitting in her office a little over a month after she had spent the weekend at Holmes manor, and was composing an email to send Mycroft regarding his mother's garden party. They had been texting fairly regularly, had gotten meals together on nearly a weekly basis, and with the help that Anthea had given Violet with finding a party planner, she had been added to the guest list for the upcoming soiree. She was currently sending an email subtly threatening Mycroft that he had better attend the party so that she would have someone to talk with while there.

The past month had been wonderful in Mycroft's eyes. He had continued sending her floral messages about once a week, although they were along the lines of complimenting her kindness, cleverness, and willingness to forgive. The rainflower had been the centerpiece still, in every one - but he (and his therapist) thought it might be time to stop atoning for his sins and move forward. He got the email as he was sitting down with a cup of tea. Ha. There was no way he'd ever live down missing the party. 

[SMS to A Jones] You do realize that my mother will disown me if I don't attend. Want to drive down together? - M

Anthea chuckled to herself. Violet was sure a force to reckon with when it came to her plans and what she expected of her sons.  
[SMS to M Holmes] I'd be happy to take you up on your offer to drive together. Will your mother mind having me stay at the manor with everything going on? -A

Mind? No, Violet wouldn't mind. She'd love that. He got pointed voicemails weekly about when he would be back to the country to visit, and to make sure Anthea knew that she was welcome anytime.

[SMS to A Jones] I doubt it, there aren't usually any overnight guests except for me, sometimes Imogen, and an occasional cousin. If we must, we can share my suite upstairs - you may have the bed, and I'll take the sofa – M

She would protest, wouldn't she? It was a bit forward, but his rooms were large - and he doubted it would be necessary anyway. 

Share a room? They had never, in any of the years knowing one another, shared a room. She couldn't say no, he was being quite generous. She wondered if Violet would approve of them sharing a space so intimately?

[SMS to M Holmes] If you are sure, but I'm much shorter. I will fit easily on the sofa and much more comfortably. - A

[SMS to A Jones] If you insist, but the sofa was acquired with my height in mind and my bad habit of falling asleep reading on it. Chances are the Hawthorne suite will be available for you again in any case. Would you like to go down to Sussex on Friday evening, then? – M  
The suite on the first floor that she had stayed in last time. Hawthorne had been in one of the bouquets that Mycroft had sent her, it meant Hope. She wondered if that might have been done on purpose, now.

[SMS to M Holmes] Friday works for me. I need to be back in town for a flight Monday morning. - A

Almost an entire weekend. He had to figure out some way to convince her of his interest and sincerity. 

[SMS to A Jones] We can leave Sunday morning after breakfast - I have the ambassadors from Lithuania, Latvia, and Estonia for my Monday. Osaka? –M  
All weekend with him and Violet? She could handle that. It was just Mycroft, after all.

[SMS to M Holmes] The merger negotiations went great, much to my relief. I’m excited to see the city. It was a bit stressful, I think this weekend will be a good time to relax and have fun after everything. - A

Mycroft hoped for a fun, relaxing weekend as well. He'd only been back at work full time for two weeks, and he was still trying to properly get back into the swing of things. 

[SMS to A Jones]I'll pick you up at yours around six and we can stop for dinner on the way, if that suits you? -M

[SMS to M Holmes] Suits me just fine. Imagine the shock I'm going to give Jennifer when I tell her that I'm taking off early? - A

Anthea smiled at her phone, looking forward to this weekend so much more than she had been already.

[SMS to A Jones] Make sure she's sitting down when you tell her. -M 

Anthea chuckled at her phone, keeping that in mind. He had done that to her on occasion, if she remembered correctly from their past. She started digging into her work, wanting to have all of her projects in good places to leave for the weekend and then her four day trip to Osaka.

The rest of the week flew by in a busy rush, trying to get various things implemented, and then he had to supervise a black ops raid on Wednesday night into the wee hours of Thursday morning. The old Mycroft would just work through the next day and hope to sleep that night, but he surprised himself (and Martin) by declaring it a job well done and thus they were taking Thursday off. Before he took a nap around noon, he called Imogen and impulsively sent Anthea an enormous bouquet of dwarf sunflowers. 

Anthea's week was a busy rush, but a good one that became more pleasant when she got a delivery of flowers. She looked up their meaning quickly then sent Mycroft a message of thanks. 

That night they ended up sitting on her kitchen table with Anthea gazing happily at them while eating her dinner, then going to pack her bags for the weekend.  
Mycroft packed his bags on Thursday evening and loaded them into his car so he could just go straight from his office to Anthea's flat. He'd had to have a new tuxedo made since his therapeutic fitness regimen had left his waist smaller and his shoulders broader. He'd gone with a deep midnight blue, as was acceptable, instead of flat black, for the cutaway jacket and trousers, on the recommendation of his tailor. He rather liked it. 

Car loaded, he replied to Anthea's earlier text. 

[SMS to A Jones] You're welcome. I think of your sunny disposition when I see sunflowers, beyond the meaning ascribed to them -M

Her smile was wide when she read the text in the middle of packing her things for the weekend. She had been searching for the proper gown for this weekend and finally decided on a loose yellow piece that had a low dipping back and straps that settled just below her shoulders. For the other days she had a nice pair of trousers and pants, and a skirt that could be switched in with a few blouses. She packed extra, unsure what would go well with the occasions.

[SMS to M Holmes] You're too kind with the flowers, really. I love them, though. No need to stop unless you want to. - A

He laughed as he read her text, sending a quick reply.

[SMS to A Jones] You may be assured there will be many bouquets in your future - M

She smiled at the text message, not responding to it and going to bed instead.

The next day, mid afternoon, Anthea got up and prepared to go home, calling Jennifer into her office, "I'm going away this weekend," she announced to the other woman, "I'll be leaving the office today, and most likely won't be coming back until after the Osaka trip."

"I can handle everything, I believe we're fully ready for the trip," Jennifer smiled, "Are you going away with Mr. Holmes this weekend? You two make the loveliest couple. I'm a bit jealous that you've snagged one of the good ones!" She winked at her boss.

"I... Mr. Holmes and I are not seeing one another. We're just two good friends who happen to spend a lot of time together," she sputtered out with wide eyes. Did people think that they were together? It's one thing for Anthea to be confused about their closeness, but an entirely different one for people outside the situation to think they were dating.

"Whatever you say, Ms Jones, enjoy your weekend."

With that parting remark, they left one another and Anthea went home to make sure that she was ready for Mycroft.

Mycroft's Friday passed uneventfully, he filed the reports from the clandestine raid and did some prep for the ambassadors' visit the next week.

At 5:30, he called Martin into his office. "I'll be in Sussex for the weekend at the Holmes estate for my mother's annual fundraiser. If the Commonwealth falls apart, you can reach me there."

"Of course, sir. Have a lovely weekend with Ms Jones."

Mycroft raised an eyebrow. "And who said I was going anywhere with Ms Jones?"

"I'm afraid my sources are confidential, sir," Martin replied with a smirk.

"Give Jennifer my regards, won't you?" Mycroft responded with a grin. "Stay away from the tattooed ones at the clubs this weekend, the both of you. I hear that only leads to heartbreak."

Martin merely shook his head with amusement and went back out to his desk.

Mycroft got his things together and headed out, hoping he'd left himself enough time in traffic to get to Anthea's on time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Red Peonies signify honour, riches, romance, prosperity, and are omens of good fortune and a happy marriage ;) 
> 
> Dwarf Sunflowers signify admiration and appreciation.


	10. Pink Camellia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Violet's garden party approaches, and our intrepid pair drive down to Sussex, stop for dinner on the way, and think some more on their friendship - or is that relationship? Neither of them know, and it's driving Mycroft spare.

Anthea sat in her living room, a book cracked open on her lap, but not much reading going on. Her mind was lost thinking about how her relationship with Mycroft. How many people saw them together and thought that they were seeing one another? Perhaps... She should look for someone to start seeing other than Mycroft to avoid any horrid rumors that would ruin their new found friendship. Anthea would not risk it.

Mycroft arrived at just past six, parking the little two-seater on the street - his diplomatic plates got him out of a lot of tickets. He pressed the buzzer for Anthea's flat and waited for her to answer.

The buzzer took her a bit by surprise, but she was all ready for him anyways, bags by the door. She opened the door with a smile. "Hello you, ready to go? I'm starved," she picked up one of her purse and the larger of her bags, leaving Mycroft with the smaller one to carry for her.

He took the bag, following behind her to the car. "I believe our assistants may be conspiring against us," he quipped, opening the boot so they could stow the bags.  
"Are they? Jennifer made a comment earlier about us. We must not be working them hard enough if they've time to gossip about us," she shook her head, stowing her things in the boot with his and going to the front seat to sit, "Where are we going for dinner?"

"There's a nice little bistro I like in Merstham, about half an hour out," Mycroft suggested, opening Anthea's door for her and them getting into the car. The Aston Martin was a classic and in gorgeous condition. "As for our assistants, they will be enjoying London's nightlife on Saturday tailed by a bodyguard. The least I could do, I think."

Anthea let out a peal of laughter, "The least you could do, I'm sure," she grinned, looking around and admiring the inside of his beautiful car, "The bistro sounds good. Drive on good sir."

"Excellent," he grinned, pulling out into traffic, heading for the southbound highway. "I've only been there alone or with Sherlock- it'll be pleasant to dine there with someone who eats instead of insulting the waitstaff."

The traffic was heavy until Mycroft pulled off onto a side road as they got nearer the town where they would have dinner.

"I might be a bit better company than Sherlock when it comes to that regard," she smiled, watching the road to remember how to get here in the future, "Since you're driving us down to your mothers, and allowing me to stay, I insist on getting dinner for you tonight," Anthea warned. It was difficult to get him to let her pay for dinner at times, and she would be sure to not let this be one of them.

"Very well, if you insist," Mycroft grudgingly agreed, as he turned onto a pretty tree-lined street and parked the car across the street from a row of shops and restaurants. The one in the middle was their location, called The Cobblestone. 

"Good evening, I have reservations for two at 7pm, under Holmes?" he said to the hostess, after they had gone inside. 

"Yes, of course, Mr Holmes. Your table is ready, if you'll please follow me?"

"Of course you have a reservation," Anthea rolled her eyes as she followed him to their table. The Bistro was very lovely and quite intimate. Almost had a bit of a romantic feel to it.

"Of course I have a reservation. It's 7pm on a Friday on the outskirts of London," Mycroft scoffed. "I wanted to eat before midnight."   
He held Anthea's chair for her as she sat down, then sat adjacent to her at the corner table, listening politely as the hostess outlined the evening's specials and then handed over the menus. 

Anthea looked over the menu, choosing a sandwich and soup combo for her dinner, "How did you find this little place?" She set the menu down and looked to him.

"I was heading back from the estate one Sunday afternoon a few years ago and I was hungry - happened upon it, only thing open in the street. I usually try to stop here any time I head down there," he explained, then turned to their waitress and gave her his order; the bistro steak with frites and bleu cheese sauce and a glass of house red. "They source locally as much as possible," he continued after the waitress had taken both orders and gone off to the kitchen. 

"That's good. Local people supporting each other, knots a tighter community together," she glanced at him before looking over the crowded room, "It seems to be a popular enough place, and it has your recommendation."

"They also do catering, although I haven't had any parties to speak of where I've needed a caterer in some time," he mused. "They're apparently known locally for their sandwiches, but I haven't had a better bleu cheese sauce outside of Paris and that is what I always end up getting." 

"Well I'm glad that I decided to go with the sandwich then. I'll be stealing some of your bleu cheese too," she warned with a grin. No way she would give up the chance of trying some of the best around. Perhaps she would remember this place and surprise him with it for lunch one day.

"It's heavenly on frites," Mycroft agreed with a smile. "I suppose I can let you sample a bit of it." He took a sip of his wine, glancing around the room. It really was a nice little place. 

She smiled at him through her wine glass, "A toast? To friendship," she held her glass to him. The past month had been a fantastic montage of luncheons and dinners like this, and it was quite relieving to have someone who she knew so well as such a close friend.

Mycroft's smile faltered for just half a second before he nodded. "To friendship," he murmured, touching his glass to hers. 

There had been a slight moment when she thought that he wasn't going to return the toast, but then he did.

"So, tell me about your mother's garden party, I only got a little of what was involved when I found her a new party planner."

"It's a benefit, I think I mentioned that before. Anyway, it benefits a trust set up to provide gardening experiences to schoolchildren in East Sussex. They do all kinds of projects, from veg gardens they use for school lunches to growing flowers and bulbs for sale. If you hadn't noticed, my mother is an avid gardener. The winter benefit is the more ridiculous one, it's for the music trust benefiting the same children. She can be very persuasive at getting people to part with their money and both trusts are doing very well. I sit on the board for the music trust and it's amazing what a music program can do, especially for at-risk youth," Mycroft explained. 

"That's wonderful, it's a very good cause for you and your mother to invest time and money into." She wondered if one day she'd have the time, energy and money to throw into working with a trust like that.

Mycroft smiled, waiting to respond as the waitress came over with their dinners. After she sat the plates down and walked away, he said, "It's incredibly rewarding. In the five years the music trust has existed, we've sent several promising musicians to university on scholarship, and two of them now play with symphonies." It was clear that he loved his work with the trust and the impact it made on young lives. 

"Really? Do you ever go listen to them? I bet that is extremely rewarding for you to see," she could see a subtle glowing pride around him when he talked about those who had really excelled from the program, much like a father might be proud of his own children.

"There is one young lady who came to us as a brilliant cellist in her GSCE year, but whose parents could not afford university fees. She was the first of the scholarship recipients and she now sits in the second chair in the London Philharmonic, her second year out of university," he explained. "I make sure her parents have season passes, although they have no idea who provides them, and I've only missed two concerts since she began - one was during my convalescence. I do my best to attend senior recitals and concerts at the schools, as well. She has a younger brother who is a promising violinist who we are also sponsoring." 

"That's wonderful, really Mycroft. I wasn't aware of your more philanthropic side, it's a very nice surprise," she felt a bit warm, but whether that was the wine or the company, she did not want to try to guess.

"There is a bit more to me than what most people see at first, yes," he said quietly with a slight smile, turning his attention to his dinner. For example, he wasn't just a womanizing arse.

"You're forgetting that I've known you for four years and I still didn't know about all of the music trust involvement that you had," she pointed out with a raised eyebrow. Though the things that she had been finding out about him have all been good, changed a bit even from their shared past.

"I find that philanthropy means more when one doesn't publicize their involvement overmuch. I don't do these things for acclaim or reward, but because it is something that makes me happy," he explained. 

"I know, I can see that," she reached across the table and squeezed his hand, "But sometimes sharing what makes you happy with the people around you is a good thing too. I'm glad that I get to know about it."

He laced his fingers with hers for a brief moment before squeezing and letting go. "I don't really have many close friends that I would share something like that with. Many acquaintances, many work colleagues, but few friends. Another thing I would like to work on."

Anthea blushed slightly, taking her hand back and going back to her dinner, "I'm happy to be counted as the lucky few who may call you friend, then."

"Darling," he quipped, "from what I hear, you almost shot someone to save my life. I'm the lucky one. Now. I believe you said something about stealing my cheese sauce - you had better get to it, because otherwise I'm going to eat it all."

Anthea laughed, reaching over to take a bit of the sauce with a frite and eating it, "Oh, that is good," she moaned softly, finishing it quickly and trying to savor the flavor at the same time, "Excellent choice for dinner, Mycroft. I might have to remember to get that next time I come here."

"It really is fantastic. If you're hungry enough for dessert, they do a good creme brulee and a better flourless chocolate cake with hazelnuts," he recommended, swirling the last bite of his steak in the cheese sauce.

"I could never deny you your cake, Mycroft," she smiled, "I'll take a coffee and steal a bite off of you, most likely," Anthea answered with a grin. They still had a while to drive, and both of them were coming from work. She wanted to stay awake to visit with Violet when they got there, and she'd most likely end up getting thrown into last minute preparations with the woman.

"I'll just get it to go and have it when we get to the estate, I'm far too full right now to eat anything else." he replied, beckoning the waitress over. "Could I possibly get two slices of the flourless chocolate cake and one of the rustic cherry-almond tarts wrapped up to go, along with two cups of coffee?" 

"Certainly, sir. I'll have those right out for you." the waitress replied, going off to sort things out. 

"Sounds brilliant," she looked away and stifled a bit of a yawn, then looked back to him, "Dear me, sorry. How long is it to your mothers? Thank god we're getting the coffee, I'm sure that we won’t be seeing our beds anytime soon."

Mycroft laughed softly, taking the bill from the waitress along with the desserts. "Now, I've been told dinner is on the lady, but dessert is on me," he said, slipping his card into the folder and handing it to Anthea. 

"You are entirely too troublesome, Mycroft," she shook her head, putting her own card into the folder and passing it to their waitress, "Dinner, my card, dessert, his," she pointed each one out to the waitress as she handed it over.

"I am not troublesome in the least," he protested, chasing the last little bit of cheese sauce with his last frite. "And it's about another 45 minutes. Rest assured, I am not tired. I slept very well last night after taking most of the day off Thursday, I had issues in other time zones to supervise. If you want to take a quick nap in the car, I won't be insulted in the least," he assured her.

Anthea quickly did the same, then stood while grabbing the coffee for them to leave, "I should be fine, especially with the coffee. Not much that a woman can't do with a shot of caffeine to keep her going," she winked at him as they approached the car and waited for him to unlock the door so she could set down the hot cups.

"Was that the mistake, allowing you all to become caffeinated?" he asked, eyes twinkling with mirth. "I've been told it was teaching women to read, but I wonder if history is incorrect on that point?" He unlocked the car and reached over to open her door from the inside, stowing the bag of desserts in the small space behind his seat. 

"Oh, I think that it was always inevitable that men would have to succumb to women's wishes," she handed him a cup of coffee, then sliding in to sit down carefully with hers while buckling, "We run households and raise the children, after all."

Mycroft pulled the cover over the center console back to reveal two cup holders. "Retrofitted, of course," he explained, "And that's quite 1950's of you, my dear, there are plenty of men who run households and raise the children."

Anthea put her cup down in the holder, "I know, I quite like the idea that a household is run by two people, not one. Doesn't always work out that way, but ideally that's what I would want," she commented.

"Considering I grew up in a household run by Frank and Alice with input from my mother and hardly any from my father - and the influence a succession of nannies, I suppose my upbringing wasn't quite ideal," Mycroft mused. "I would like working together as a cohesive unit, a partnership," he agreed, heading back out to main roads as they drove further southeast.

"We all come from different backgrounds, what is important is that we learned from it and listen to everyone's way of parenting to figure out what is best for you and the child. It's a bit of a balancing act, I suppose," Anthea reflected out loud to him, "How is your mother going to be when we get there? Is she still going to be working on last minute plans, or having a relaxing evening before the party?"

"Hard to tell. If the party planner's done their job properly, she should be fairly relaxed. If not, she'll be in a tizzy," Mycroft explained, taking a sip of his coffee. "We'll hope for fairly relaxed, or she's going to put me to work stringing fairy lights or some nonsense."

"She'll have both of us to help her if she needs it, but we'll hope that the planner has done her job well," Anthea took a sip of the coffee now that it had cooled a bit.

"She won't let you help, she'll make you sit by her, drink gin and tonics, and tell me to hang the blasted things a little more to the left," Mycroft grumbled. "My cousin Isadora came two years ago - she's Sherlock's age - offered to help Melissa with the last of it, and Mummy made both her and Melissa sit and have cocktails while I did the rest of the work. She's a menace."

"I wouldn't leave you to do all the work on your own," Anthea assured him, "I'll come stand next to you with my gin and tonic and tell you that you're doing it a bit wrong, then hand the drink over and show you how to do it," she had the widest grin on her face. Teasing him sometimes was too easy.

"You are completely awful," he grumbled, but he was pleased at her teasing, the slight lift to the corners of his mouth showing it. "Oh, yes, she's decided to redecorate my rooms upstairs and so I've been shunted to the guest corridor _again_. I hate that damn Blue Hyacinth room, it makes me tired. You're in the Hawthorne room again."

"We could switch, if you hate that room so much," Anthea offered. Though she did love the coloring of the Hawthorne room, and wouldn't give the room up for anyone else, she would happily do it for Mycroft. "Besides, then I would have direct access to roaming the gardens when I can't sleep."

"I'm just cross because it's not _my_ room," Mycroft muttered. "Although if you can't sleep, feel free to sneak through to the garden, I certainly won't mind."

"I'll most likely be fine, but thank you. I need to find a way to properly thank your mother, you know. She's always so welcoming of me whenever I come to stay at the manor, or even by letting me stay at all. I'm very grateful to her."

'Marry me and give her grandchildren', Mycroft thought, a bit of a dopey grin flitting across his face before he schooled his expression. "I'm sure you'll think of something suitable," he assured her.

"No, I saw that look, you had an idea, tell me what it was. I need all the help that I can get staying in your mother's good graces, I quite like her and being able to come stay with you two when I have the chance," she insisted.

Mycroft shook his head frantically, "No, no, really, I assure you, you don't want to hear it. Why don't you have her up to London for a day of shopping, or museums, or art galleries. She would love that, I'm sure."

She looked at him carefully, "I suppose I could invite her up for just some time together. Too bad I didn't think about this sooner or I'm sure she would have been quite helpful with my Osaka wardrobe," he was hiding his thoughts from her, the devilish man. But it seemed like he genuinely did not want to talk about what he had thought in that moment, so she would not pressure him.

"Oh, she would have loved to help you with that. She's clever with clothes," Mycroft replied, thankful she hadn't pressed any further. 'Yes, by the way, I'm pretty sure I'm in love with you and I want to get married and have lots of sex and babies' would not have gone over well. At all. Friends, they were friends. He was lucky enough to have that. 

"I'll remember that for the future," Anthea nodded. And why not, being friends with the son didn't mean that she couldn't be friendly with his mother, right? They'd had their moment to connect while Mycroft was in the hospital, and a few times before that, and now that she and Mycroft were reconnecting as friends, Violet Holmes seemed particularly friendly to her.

The sun was beginning to slip behind the treeline as Mycroft turned the car onto the quiet country road that would take them to the manor. "If you look right over there, you can see where we had our picnic a few weeks ago," he pointed out, the little copse of trees standing apart in a field. 

"That was a very fortunate day, I think," she murmured mostly to herself, a bit for him. They had parted on such odd terms a few days prior, Anthea had been feeling very confused about him. Not that that had changed, just now it was a different type of confusion.

"I think so, too," he said softly, reaching over and gently squeezing her hand for a brief moment. He pulled into the drive up to the manor and groaned. "Oh god, let's turn around and go back now before she sees us. Every damn light is blazing, we'll be walking into a warzone."

"Maybe if we just sit in the dark car for a few hours and we'll say that work caught us up and we got in late," she watched the manor with concern. That house ahead was not at all promising to the start of a relaxing weekend. She was almost sad that her coffee was all gone, "Oh, we can sit in here and eat the cake before we go in, perhaps that will kill some time before the inevitable."

Mycroft laughed, parking the car near the front doors - he'd move it later. "No, we must face the inevitable," he said, "she's already seen us." 

Violet was standing on the front steps, waving. She looked happy, so perhaps things weren't as bad as Mycroft was imagining. 

"Hello Mrs. Holmes," Anthea smiled to the older woman as she stepped out of Mycroft's car, "I hope that you are having a restful evening before tomorrow?"

"Yes, everything's all done and confirmed and ready to go," Violet replied with a smile, coming down the steps and greeting Anthea warmly with a hug and a kiss on each cheek. 

Mycroft looked at his mother, and then at the house, and then back to his mother again, puzzlement written all over his features. "Why is every light on, then?" 

Violet just patted him on the cheek. "There's a crew here filming for a historic homes programme for the BBC, of course. I thought I'd mentioned it. They're almost done - another hour and they'll be out of the way. They wanted some nice panoramic shots of the outside, all lit up."

"Filming for the... no, you never did mention it, at least not to me. So long as I don't have to hang fairy lights in the dark, I don't care what they're filming," Mycroft muttered, unlocking the boot of the car and getting the bags out. 

Anthea just had to shake her head slightly, the BBC was filming something at the house, not a big deal at all.

She reached back into the car for her purse and their dessert from the Cobblestone, then went around the back of the car to grab at least one of her bags to take inside with her, "Are we allowed inside to our rooms, or will we interrupt their filming?"

"They're just finishing the outdoor shots, dear," Violet replied with a smile, taking Anthea's garment bag for her and leaving Mycroft to fumble with the rest. "I'll send Frank out to help you in a moment, Mycroft," she called, chivvying Anthea into the house. "I've put you in the Hawthorne room again, since you said you liked it last time," she went on, leading her down the corridor to the room. 

Mycroft looked at the three bags in the boot and the garment bag slung over his arm and sighed. "Fuck a duck," he muttered under his breath, leaning against the car and waiting for Frank to come out and help. 

"It's really very nice of you to allow me to stay with you, Mrs. Holmes, your house is very beautiful," she smiled to the older woman, walking beside her and slightly behind as they made their way through the great home and towards the rooms that she and Mycroft would be in once more.

"Of course - it's no trouble at all," Violet assured her. "I'll let you get settled in, then why don't the two of you join me for a cuppa in the kitchen? There's cameramen all over the library." 

Meanwhile, Mycroft gave up waiting for Frank and carried the bags in himself through some careful finagling and balancing. Violet had already retreated back to the kitchen by the time he came stumbling down the short hallway and knocked on Anthea's door. 

Anthea opened the door as soon as there was a knock, taking in the slightly frazzled Mycroft. "She didn't have Frank come help you, did she?" Anthea almost laughed. "Here, let me get my things then I'll help you to your room. Your mother requests us in the kitchen when we're settled," Anthea talked as she took her things from him then wrestled a couple bags from him to take to his room.

"I will never be settled, she is an absolute menace," Mycroft groaned, setting his bags down and hanging his garment bag up in the wardrobe. "Having the BBC come to film the night before a huge event? She's lost her marbles." He flopped down into an armchair, tossing his hands up in frustration. 

Anthea followed him into his room and watched his little fit of frustration, "Mycroft, why is this bothering you? If she felt well enough to allow people in to film, it must be fine."

"This is, for all intents and purposes, my home. I don't want to share it with the world via television," Mycroft sighed. "I know how petulant that sounds, but I wasn't even consulted."

"I'm sure your mother didn't even think of it that way," Anthea stepped closer and put a comforting hand on his shoulder, "I think I can find my way to the kitchen, if you'd like to have a minute with her before I come in."

Mycroft sighed, patting her hand. "It won't matter, she'll just tell me I'm being ridiculous," he muttered, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "She'll just tell me it's funds for upkeep of the estate that don't come out of my inheritance, and so I should be grateful. Not really worth getting into." He stood and stretched his arms over his head for a moment. "Perhaps tea and cake will put me in a better mood," he murmured. 

"You're not being ridiculous, Mycroft, though I'm sure she had what was best for the estate in mind when she let people come in to film," she took his arm and started walking him out of his room, "I’m sure that delicious looking cake will put you into much better spirits though."

"When has cake not put me in better spirits?" Mycroft quipped, allowing himself to be walked down the hall. "Kitchen's at the far side, back corner. You do realize that you're practically family now? If she still considered you a guest, she'd have found _somewhere_ other than the kitchen to entertain you."

"I feel honored to be considered so close, then," Anthea smiled, "I feel bad that we didn't get a third piece of cake for your mother. Oh, we left the cake in my room, I'll go get it and meet you in the kitchen," she told him, slipping from his arm and starting to head back towards her room.

Mycroft tucked his hands in his pockets and continued down the hall into the kitchen. "I wish you would have told me they were filming here. It's my home, too," he said, sitting next to Violet at the table. 

Violet frowned, looking up from her tea. "I had no idea you would mind, much less care," she replied, turning her teacup in her hands. "I'm sorry, Mycroft. You're right, I should have let you know, at the very least. Where's Anthea?"

"Getting the cake. Well, we have cake, I brought you one of those rustic tarts you like so much. We stopped at Cobblestone for dinner on our way down," he explained, pouring himself a cup. 

"Oh, lovely. I've never been so glad you discovered them on a whim," Violet exclaimed. "What you should have brought is a vat of that bleu cheese sauce. I've never had better-"

"-outside of Paris, yes," he chimed in, grinning. 

Anthea was rejoining them just as they were talking about the bleu cheese and caught Mycroft grinning widely with his mother. He was really quite handsome when he was with people that he could relax around, "Here's the dessert," she smiled and set the bag down on the table, unpacking everything for the Holmes' and passing everyone their respective deserts.

Mycroft took his container and popped the lid open, savouring the chocolate smell before taking a bite and flat-out moaning with satisfaction. "Oh God, that may be even better than I remembered it," he sighed.

Anthea watched him with amusement, ignoring the way her pupils dilated a bit when listening to his moan. She took a small, hesitant bite, having to bite back her own little noise of appreciation, "Oh my, that is quite good."

Violet merely sat back, watching the two of them, amusement dancing in her eyes. Did neither of them have the slightest clue how they felt about each other? Oh, tomorrow's party was going to be delightful. 

Mycroft sat back in his chair, spoon in hand. "I'd say as far as chocolate desserts go, this ranks right up there with Alice's brownies."

"I don't know, those brownies were delicious," she frowned, "I think that each has their own merits, as far as cake goes, though, this is up there as one of the better ones that I've had. There was that time that you got me a slice for my birthday, white chocolate cake with buttercream frosting, right?"

"Oh, I'd forgotten all about that," Mycroft mused. "Yes, that bakery is rather good, too. Their window displays are tempting, it's right by my office. They do beautiful wedding cakes." 

"Wedding cakes?" Violet asked, bemused. "Is there something you wish to tell me?" 

Mycroft blushed, shaking his head. "The displays. There are often wedding cakes in the displays," he muttered, looking deeply into his cup of tea.

Anthea almost giggled, it was obvious that Violet wanted Mycroft to settle down with someone, and perhaps he would now that he seemed to be making changes to his life. She would make sure to support him in any way that she could through that.

"I remember that place, they always had very pretty displays in their windows."

"Pretty displays mean nothing if the taste isn't there - and thankfully, it is in this case," Mycroft said with a nod, and spooned the last bit of cake into his mouth with a satisfied sigh as he chewed and swallowed. "Now, really, there are no last-minute things to do, no fairy lights to hang, furniture to move?" he asked Violet with a skeptical air. 

"Nothing. It's all ready. The party planner Anthea found for me - thank you again, dear - was quite thorough, although I look forward to having Melissa back for the winter event," Violet admitted.

"Perhaps I'll keep this one in mind if I have any events to plan. It sounded like she worked out well with you," Anthea finished off her cake then moved on to sip her tea slowly. She felt surprisingly at home, here in her friend's large home with his mother.

The kitchen chairs were much more comfortable than the formal dining room seating, and Mycroft was content to sit back and drink the last of his tea, listening to Anthea chat with his mother. 

"She did. I can't thank you enough," Violet effused. "I was quite stressed planning it all on my own. I'm certainly _capable_ , but at my age I much prefer when I can just hand a list over, make final decisions, and concentrate on what I'm going to wear."

"That sounds like it is the smart way to plan a party," Anthea nodded, "Sit back and let someone else do most of the work and you simply supervise to make sure it all goes to plan. I'm really excited for the party tomorrow, this will be my first white tie event that I shall be attending as a guest and not working," she winked at Mycroft.

Mycroft smirked. "I'm rather looking forward to the debut of my new tuxedo," he drawled lazily, turning his empty teacup in his long, elegant fingers as he returned her wink, then turned to his mother. "What shade of violet are you wearing this year, Violet?" he teased, good-naturedly. 

Anthea giggled, of course Violet would be wearing violet. Perhaps Anthea should have picked something more flowery to wear to match her name, "Do you really tend to wear a shade of violet to offset your name? That's quite fun."

"I like how my hair looks against shades of purple," Violet confessed with a smirk - the same smirk that so often graced Mycroft's face. "It's a very pale lavender shade this year, thank you. And on that note, I'm off for my beauty sleep." She stood from her chair, then leaned over and pressed an affectionate kiss atop Mycroft's head, smoothing his hair. "Don't stay up too late, hm?" And then she was off, with a wave of her fingers to Anthea. 

"Goodnight, Mrs. Holmes," Anthea called to the older lady as she left the kitchen, "She is absolutely something else, Mycroft. I see where you get most of your mannerisms and skills," she smiled to Mycroft, taking the empty tea things and putting them in the sink then turning to throw away the containers that their deserts all came in.  
Mycroft returned the smile, watching Anthea move around his kitchen like she'd been doing so all her life. "I do take after her a bit," he admitted. "Well, perhaps more than just a bit."

"I think that it's a compliment on both of your parts that you are similar," she sat back down, leaning her head on her hands and watching him.

"I'm gratified to hear you think so," he murmured, shifting in the chair so he was turned toward her. "There are worse things than being witty, and graceful, and elegant - all things I've associated with her since I was very small. I used to think I lacked her inherent warmth, but I realize now it was just that I didn't allow myself to express it."

"I think that you've changed a lot in the past few months, and expressing warmth is getting a bit easier for you to do," she smiled, "I think that it's been a good thing for you, even if the catalyst was something that I think that we would have all rather avoided." Anthea looked away, not sure if it was okay for her to say any of that, but she honestly felt the need to say how much she enjoyed this change in him.

"It's so odd. I... almost feel as though I'm a different person, or at the very least there was so much of me locked away before." he said softly, eyes trained on the tabletop as his fingertip traced the grain of the wood. 

Anthea watched him with soft eyes as he traced the table with a nimble finger, "I think that you were living as it suited you at the time. It wasn't all bad, but changing what you want from life is fine. I'll be right here to help in any way that I can, you know."

"I know. You are nothing short of wonderful," he replied, glancing over at her with a fond smile. "I'm going to take a walk - can you find your way back to your room?"

"Yes," Anthea stood, deciding that perhaps some time spent alone would be good, "I need to check on my dress and make sure that I am all ready for tomorrow anyways. When is breakfast?"

"Alice will have put out pastries, coffee, and the like by seven, and then she's off on Saturdays until four, usually - it's strictly serve-yourself for both breakfast and lunch - so whenever you like," Mycroft explained, pausing in the doorway. "Sweet dreams." 

"Sweet dreams Mycroft," she called gently back to him, watching him leave before taking her own leave towards their rooms. She went to her dress, checking to make sure that it was not wrinkled and would look presentable for the next day. She had white gloves to match and shiny earrings to distract people with. She would hopefully look quite radiant next to all of the society people that would be at Violet's party. With a sigh, she pulled out the rest of her clothes to hang, then proceeded to get ready for bed.

Mycroft wandered amidst the soft solar lights of the garden paths for quite some time, lost in his own thoughts. He found himself out by the pond and the willow, wondering when his life had become so simple and so bloody complicated all at the same time. If someone had told him six months ago what his life would be like today, he would have laughed them out of the room. The Iceman didn't do emotion or feelings. He certainly didn't want to go back to how things had been, but all the same, he had no idea how to tell Anthea he had fallen for her. How could he, when she was so careful to point out that they were _friends_? He sighed, and walked back toward the house. It was after eleven by the time he got ready for bed and well past midnight before he was able to quiet his restless mind and succumb to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One flower for this week's chapter, as only one is needed. 
> 
> Pink Camellia - I long for you.


	11. Cattleya Orchid

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A trip into the village and getting ready for the party. Corsages are chosen, daringly. And who is this interloper vying for Anthea's attention?

Anthea woke early the next morning, feeling rested but a bit unsettled by the last whispers of a dream that she could barely remember. Shaking it off, she went and showered, weaving her hair into a loose plait then venturing out of her room in search of Violet, Mycroft, and breakfast.

Violet was in the kitchen, drinking strong coffee and toying with the remains of a croissant. 

"Good morning," she greeted Anthea. "Mycroft must still be asleep? Ah well, better he's not underfoot this morning, with all the hustle and bustle - he's just as invested in the success of this benefit as I am and he will meddle, given the chance. I might need you to get him out of my hair."

"Oh he's not so bad, is he? We can give him some little project to work on that will keep him out of the way, like hanging fairy lights," she smiled and poured herself a cup of coffee and snagging a pastry to nibble on while discussing what to do with Mycroft.

Violet laughed at that, shaking her head with amusement. "I do believe he threatened drastic measures if I ever made him hang fairy lights again after the last time - and in any case, they're all hung, have been since earlier in the week. Perhaps we can send him into the village to pick up lunch and hope he gets distracted by a bookshop," she mused. "Did you sleep well?"

"I did, thank you. I'm very grateful to you for opening your home to me," she smiled at Violet, "Perhaps I will go with him to the village and help to distract him while there. I've never been to the local town," she explained. It was so easy to get him to show her around places, he was ever the gentleman and conceded nearly always to her wishes.

Violet glanced over Anthea's shoulder, smiled, and stood, taking her cup of coffee with her. "I'm just going to go and be sure they're setting up the pavilions and tables where I want them," she announced, exiting the kitchen through the pantry door. 

"Let me guess," Mycroft's voice rumbled from behind Anthea, "She tried to convince you to get me out of her hair." He was still in his pyjamas and dressing gown, hair rumpled from sleep, clearly in need of coffee before he could comprehend anything complicated.

She whipped her head around, "Morning sleepy," she chuckled, "You seem like you still belong in bed," she smiled at him, "Sit, I'll get you coffee. Then you need to go get ready so that we can retrieve lunch for us and your mother," Anthea set a cup prepared with a dash of milk in front of him.

"I would like to still be in bed," he grumbled, sinking into a chair, fingers closing around the warm mug. "Thank you - the rental company gorillas dropped a rack of bloody chairs right outside the bloody french doors of my room." he took a drink of the coffee - it was perfect. Of course, it would be. He reached for a chocolate croissant to go with his coffee. "Transparent," he muttered into his coffee, barely loud enough to be heard.

"You poor tired thing, getting you out of the manor will be good," she sat adjacent to him once more and pulled apart a small piece of her pastry to eat.

Mycroft didn't reply, just drank his coffee with ill grace. _How_ he hated being managed by his mother! 

"There's a deli we can get sandwiches from," he finally responded. "And a quaint bookshop, if you like that sort of thing. I'll go and get ready." He set his empty cup down and headed back to his room.

Anthea watched him go, aware that he was bothered by something but thought it best to let him work through it on his own. She finished her breakfast slowly before going back to her room to grab her purse and wait for her slightly more irritated friend to be ready to go. She lounged on a chair with an open book on her lap and the door ajar so that Mycroft could wander in when he was ready.

He showered quickly, pulling on casual clothing (as casual as he got) and comfortable shoes, then went and knocked on the open door of Anthea's room. "Ready when you are," he said with a smile.

"I've been waiting on you," she smiled, slipping into her shoes and following him to his car and into town for a calm morning of making sure he stayed relaxed and distracted.

He parked near the bookshop, guiding them there first to browse for a while before getting lunch to take back to the house. He showed her the various reading nooks and was gratified when the elderly shopkeeper remembered his name and his favorite spot to sit.

Anthea would not have minded staying longer in the little bookshop, but that they needed to get lunch back in time for them to get ready for the party, "Shall we head back? It would be good to eat before we get ready and dress, and I'm sure that Violet and I need a fair bit of time to do so."

"Of course," Mycroft agreed, and they walked the few shops down to the deli, ordering several different kinds of sandwiches and some prepared salads from the cooler. They were packaged up in no time at all, and they were soon on their way back to the house for lunch. 

She was quiet on the way back to manor, wondering about her and Mycroft, and what they meant to each other. For all intents and purposes, they had been courting one another for a good month after having spent years knowing one another. They went to the kitchen with the food, unpacking everything so that people could feed themselves as they wandered in.

Mycroft had a sandwich and a handful of crisps sitting at the kitchen table, unable to shake the odd prickle of anticipation for the evening that skittered along his spine. He wouldn't need nearly so long to get ready as the ladies would, but he retired to his rooms with the books he'd picked up in town in any case, with a smile for Anthea as he went. 

She returned his private smile for her as he left the kitchen, staying there a moment longer to allow him time to get to his room before she went to hers. It would not take her so long to get ready, but she supposed that she should just get it over with to make sure that she was ready for the evening ahead.

Her plait was easily undone and swept up to a formal style at the back of her head with some small tendrils falling loosely around her neck. That done, she went and slipped into her slim fitting yellow dress, then going back to the en suite to finish her make up and put jewelry on. All in all, she was ready within an hour, left standing in front of the full length mirror to nod approvingly to herself over her appearance. The dress was lacy, with a sweetheart neckline that was covered by the lace up to her neck, long sleeves, and a flowing skirt that went down to the ground. She particularly liked the back of the dress for flowing in a V from her shoulders down to the waistline of the dress. It created quite a dramatic effect. 

Mycroft spent most of the afternoon immersed in the fantasy novel he'd picked up, then took some time to properly shine his shoes before finally getting ready with about an hour and half to go before the party. He showered again and stood at the sink in his towel to shave and tame his hair, drying off fully before slowly getting dressed. The fit of the new tuxedo was nothing short of divine and he was quite pleased with it. He managed to tie his bow tie without any fuss, although he didn't wear them often. The event was due to start at seven, and it was just quarter to when he went across the hall to knock on Anthea's door. 

Anthea had been relaxing when she heard the knock on the door, it was most likely Mycroft coming to tell her that they should head to the party. She answered the door, well prepared for everything, yet was stopped short by his appearance. "You look magnificent," she said, smiling at him as she admired the cut of his tux and the bow tie. She absolutely loved white tie, though there was hardly an occasion for her to see anyone in it.

"Thank you. You look positively radiant, that colour is brilliant," he replied, feeling lucky he could get any words out at all. "If you're ready?" 

"I've been waiting on you," she echoed her words from earlier, "I'll confess, I'm a bit unsure of myself among all of these grand people. I hope that I find someone to talk to so that I don't take up all of your time following you around," Anthea smiled at him. It was partially his event, he'd have to circle around and talk with everyone.

A wide smile spread across his face as she said she'd been waiting. "It's incredibly likely that you will make some valuable business connections this evening," Mycroft replied, offering his arm to escort her to the party. "And I don't mind if you do take up all my time. I hardly think you'd be following me around - I would be pleased to have you by my side all evening."

Anthea blushed lightly, taking his arm and walking with him towards the gathering, "I'll make sure to be extra sociable then, networking is always good for someone like me."

He led her out to the foyer and through the back door into the garden terrace, which looked absolutely spectacular in the evening sunlight. The fairy lights were glowing softly in the trees, and there were about twenty tables set up on the paving stones. A string quartet played, unobtrusively, under a pavilion tent. 

"The violinist is Trevor, the young man I was telling you about last night," he murmured as he glanced around, looking for Violet. There were only a few people who had arrived early; dinner was due to begin at eight, most people would arrive around seven-thirty. 

The plantings around the garden had all been clearly labelled, not only with the name of the plant but the scientific names as well; and in the floral beds, their associated meanings. Violet was standing near the musicians, looking lovely in her long lavender gown. 

"Mrs. Holmes, you look beautiful," she went to the older woman and embraced her lightly, kissing her on the cheek, "Everything looks lovely, really. I feel a bit lost admiring the general splendor of it all," she was trying to ignore the place in her heart that wanted to confess that she was lost in the splendor of Mycroft as much as she dearly wished that she was not. Anthea was very glad that she would be going away for a few days, avoiding his direct contact after this. He was all too enticing in more ways than a friend should be.

Violet held Anthea at arm's length, looking her over for a moment with a fond expression. "I can't hold a candle to you, my dear," she replied, gently squeezing her shoulders and letting her go. "And Mycroft, don't you look dashing! The midnight blue is quite bold for this crowd." 

"Still well within regulation, and thank you very much, Mummy. Ah, is that Imogen I see?" he asked, catching sight of a short older woman clad in soft green as she came up one of the garden paths. 

"Mycroft, how good to actually see you, instead of just speaking on the phone," Imogen greeted him. "I was just putting the last of the labels in the flower beds, I need to run inside and get my gloves and change my shoes - but this must be your Anthea whom I've been making arrangements for. It's a pleasure to meet you!" she held her hand out to Anthea with a smile.

"You're who I have to thank for all of the splendid arrangements? Many thanks," Anthea shook the other woman's hand fondly, happy to put a face to the name of the woman who Mycroft sent her flowers through. Violet had made her blush with the compliment, and smirk a bit at her commenting Mycroft's choice color of tux. She thought that it was quite becoming, and standing next to him she didn't feel so out of place.

"It was a pleasure to do something fun for once; most of the time I'm arranging bland wedding roses and funeral lilies!" Imogen said brightly, then rushed off to finish getting ready. 

"Mycroft, why don't you take Anthea into the greenhouse and find her something bright and exotic to go with that gown?" Violet suggested pointedly. It was true, he should have thought of that before. 

"Of course, I ought to have thought of that myself," he agreed. "Do you mind?" he asked Anthea. 

"What do you mean?" Anthea looked back at Violet as Mycroft led her on towards the green house, "What does she mean? Get me a flower to go with the gown?"

"Yes," was Mycroft's short answer. "I expect I'll get a lecture later, but I should have had a corsage ready for you _and_ one for her as well. I am woefully rusty on the finer points of how to behave in high society; as the 'man' of the house, it's my duty to think of these things for my mother, any maiden sisters, and unmarried female guests of the family." He didn't mention it would also serve to gently point out to any potential suitors that Anthea was already there with someone, which was likely what Violet was after.

He opened the door of the greenhouse and stepped into the warm, humid air. "An orchid, perhaps? This yellow and orange variety would be stunning pinned into your hair."

"You do well trying to keep on top of everything Mycroft," she assured him in a voice only meant for them, "Well, I think that the orchid will fit well into my hair, perhaps I can find someone who will tuck it into the back of my hair," she mused, wanting to make sure that it looked like the orchid was a planned part of her wardrobe and not a last minute addition.

He pulled out a little drawer and took out a pair of scissors, carefully snipping one of the precious blooms from the plant. He left a good bit of stem. 

"Turn around and I'll see what I can do," he murmured, stepping close. 

Anthea did so, gathering her dress up so that he didn't run a risk of stepping on the back, "Thank you," she murmured and waited for him to settle the flower, hopefully with art, in her hair.

Mycroft swallowed hard, faced with the expanse of bare back Anthea's gown exposed to his view, but carefully slid the stem of the flower into her updo, near where a couple of her hair pins lined up, using them to secure the stem. He turned it a bit to get the angle he was looking for, then stepped back, fingers ghosting along her neck and shoulders. He had to get himself under control. 

"It suits you," he said softly, recklessly snipping a matching bloom and pinning it to his jacket with a stray pin that was miraculously in the drawer. 

"Thank you," she murmured softly. The hands ghosting along her skin almost undid her. She turned and saw him pinning an orchid to himself as well and couldn't help but think that that made it seem as though they were attached much more closely than they were. Anthea knew enough to know that matching flowers on people meant that they were involved, which was not what Anthea and Mycroft were.

"Do you need to get something for your mother, you mentioned?" She asked as a distractor to their entirely odd scene going on.

"Ordinarily I'd go with one of the big Gerbera daisies, as those are her favourite, but not with the gown she's got on," he mused, then his eyes lit up with an idea. "Why don't you go back to the terrace? I need to nip over to the kitchen garden for just a moment." 

He opened the greenhouse door for her and followed her out. "I'll be back in just a few minutes."

"I'll see you when you return, then," she smiled and waved at him as they parted. Anthea wandered back over towards the terrace, seeing that some guests had arrived. Picking up a drink, she stood to the side and smiled at people when they passed by her. There was a man with a black bow tie who stopped to talk to her. Young, dashing, nice smile and his name was Charles. They stood and chatted uninterrupted for some time.

Mycroft was only gone about fifteen minutes or so, in which he'd been to the kitchen garden to snip lavender and rosemary, wheedled Imogen into arranging them nicely, and presented the herbs to his mother in lieu of a corsage. Violet patted his cheek and called him a scamp, but allowed him to pin the fragrant bunch to the shoulder strap of her gown. 

He snagged a glass of wine from a passing waiter and stood looking over the gathered crowd, one hand in his pocket. He made a very dashing picture backlit by the setting sun. He tried telling himself he wasn't precisely looking for Anthea, but that only went so far when he saw her standing on the other side of the terrace, chatting animatedly with a handsome young man, which she had every right to do - yet he couldn't prevent the sinking feeling of utter jealousy that gathered in the pit of his stomach.

Charles was the son of one of Violet's society ladies, had been a bit younger than the Holmes boys and never close to them. He had wild stories to tell about the people in attendance of the party, and a few of his more brilliant adventures to regale her with.

Anthea would be lying to herself if she didn't admit that she was a bit charmed by this handsome young man, but being charmed wasn't what she really wanted, as much as it was fun. She was just glancing over the crowd and her eye caught the lone figure of Mycroft at the other side of the terrace, and she hesitated in her thoughts. Should she go to him and accept that she'd likely grow old, single, and be good friends with the man that she was inevitably and slowly falling in love with, or stay here and decide to try to meet someone that could perhaps change that. Tearing her eyes away from him, Anthea refocused her attention on Charles and listened intently, though her heart wasn't entirely in it.

Dinner was announced a few moments later, and Mycroft made his way across the terrace now that he had a reason to entice Anthea away - they were seated together at Violet's table. 

"Pardon me for intruding - might I escort you to dinner, Ms Jones? I do believe we are at the same table," he said politely, bowing slightly at the waist and offering his hand to Anthea. 

"Of course, thank you," she smiled, "I'll see you after dinner then, Charles," Anthea smiled to him, taking Mycroft's arm so that they could go sit.

"I look forward to it, Anthea," Charles smiled wickedly, taking her unoccupied hand and bending over it to brush a kiss on the back, "Until then."

It was with a definite flush that Anthea followed Mycroft with all of the other guests towards dinner.

"Well, you certainly seem to have garnered an admirer," Mycroft said carefully, as he held her chair for her then sat down himself.

Violet leaned over from the other side of Mycroft and raised a playful eyebrow at Anthea. "Charles is quite a dashing young man - she could do worse," she commented. Of course, she could do better, namely with the man sitting next to her. 

"He was... Charming, I will give him that," Anthea nodded to Violet. She almost felt like she was a bit on display, her every move scrutinized by Mycroft and his mother.  
Anthea sat carefully and ate quietly, listening to those around them talk more than she spoke herself.

"I thought he was a bit of a preening twit, but then he's not my type," Imogen piped up from the other side of Violet, winking audaciously at Mycroft. 

"Ah yes, you prefer the more soft and biddable type," Violet snarked, good-naturedly. It was clearly an old game between the two of them. She smiled at Anthea, "Imogen and I were at school together, so I've known her since-"

"The dawn of time," Imogen drawled. Mycroft stifled a laugh. "And yes, I prefer the soft and biddable type that lacks a y-chromosome. Still. Preening twit."

Mycroft chuckled into his salad. "Yes, they're always like this. It always lightened up dull Holmes holiday parties."

"I'm sure that she does a right good job of keeping you on your toes and not so serious," Anthea laughed, taking a bite of her salad and grinning to Imogen, "Someone has to, right? I think that people have let him get too serious recently in the past few years, I was one of them."

Mycroft didn't really know what to say to that. Thank goodness for raving lunatic kidnappers? It was just a small thing of almost dying, no big deal? "I've been doing better lately," he murmured, taking a sip of his wine. 

"I didn't mean it that way, Mycroft, you know that," she murmured softly while everyone else went on talking around them, "You've been fine all along, just more people can see that now," Anthea explained, unsure how to go about trying to cheer him up a bit and mirrored his own action by taking a sip of wine.

Thankfully, Violet was due to give a speech in the middle of the dinner before the main course was brought out. She spoke for a few minutes about the school gardening initiative and welcomed all the guests to explore along the lit garden paths after the dinner. 

Mycroft was pleased at the turnout, some two hundred people at a hundred pounds a head was an excellent addition to the trust, not to mention those who had made larger donations. It would be slightly less after the expenses were deducted, but still quite good. 

"This promises to be the most successful benefit thus far," he murmured to Anthea as his mother made her way back to their table. 

"I'm sure that it will be, this is quite a good setting to incite the better off people to give money to someone who needs it. Philanthropy is a good thing, even if someone doesn't have the right reasons behind it," Anthea smiled to him as Violet sat back down and the main course arrived.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cattleya orchids don't have a specific meaning beyond the color. Orchids of all kinds have come to mean fertility and elegance as an overall meaning. This is the flower that Mycroft gave Anthea for her hair and pinned to his own tux. 
> 
> Yellow orchids, like many yellow flowers, signify friendship and new beginnings.  
> Orange orchids are for pride, boldness, and enthusiasm
> 
> And yes, matching corsages indicates two people are together. Mycroft is pushing the bounds of propriety.


	12. Red Tulips and Moss Roses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The gala is in full swing. Dancing, flowers, and meddling mummy.

The three courses of dinner went smoothly and as people left the tables they were cleared away to make space for dancing, the chairs moved off to the side. 

"Might I take you for a turn around the floor?" Mycroft asked Anthea, with a polite smile. Even a few minutes in a formal dance hold with her would be bliss. He glanced over at Imogen and Violet. "Ladies, I'll be pleased to dance with you in a little while, if your cards aren't full," he teased. 

Anthea laughed at him, taking his arm and leading him away from the twittering ladies, "You're completely incorrigible," she said with the widest smile, turning into him and putting a hand on his shoulder, the other held out for him to take.

He took her hand, his other splayed across her back against her warm, bare skin. Did she feel the way he did when they touched? He wanted so badly to hold her close, caress her, confess how he felt about her. "I like it when you call me that," he murmured, leading her into a simple box-step and then a turn here and there as they got comfortable with each other. "It makes me feel rakish."

She was doing an admirable job not to fall into unstoppable giggles, "Rakish, really Mycroft? I can see it, but it's just so funny to hear you say it," she followed his steps easily, smiling all the while that they danced around the floor.

"Yes, rakish," he replied, laughing softly. "Or roguish, as the case may be. Not quite so buttoned-up and proper. I aspire to incorrigibility, my dear." The music changed, and he shifted his stance a bit. "Another dance?"

Anthea was about to answer with the affirmative when she saw a hand tapping Mycroft's shoulder, "May I cut in?" Charles asked Mycroft, but his eyes were glued to Anthea as he asked.

"I'm fine with it as long as you are, Mycroft? You wanted to go claim a dance from Imogen and your mother, anyway?" She wanted to dance with Mycroft again, but taking up all of his time wasn't something that she wanted to do, and meeting new people was a part of what tonight was about, wasn't it?

A flicker of annoyance crossed Mycroft's face, but he bowed out gracefully, putting Anthea's hand in Charles'. "Of course. Enjoy your dance," he said politely, skirting the edge of the dance floor as he made he way back to Violet and Imogen. "Mummy, might I interest you in a dance?" he asked, bowing low over Violet's hand. 

"Of course you may, darling," she accepted, taking his hand. "I see you lost your partner." 

"For the moment, yes," he replied, frowning. 

"Mycroft, anyone with eyes can see how you two feel about each other. Tell her you love her," Violet urged him. 

He sighed, closing his eyes for a moment. "She is my friend. She's made it quite clear that is all."

"Perhaps she is afraid her feelings won't be returned. And young Charles is making quite an impression. It may be now or never," Violet said gently. 

Mycroft merely shook his head, finished the dance, and stalked off down the path toward the pond without a backward glance. He needed to think, to cool down, before he did something reckless that he couldn't take back.   
Anthea was having a nice time with Charles, listening to him talk more and more about himself and when the dance was over she thanked him with a smile and walked away, looking around the crowd for a familiar face, but only catching the back of Mycroft as he walked away from the party. She frowned slightly, walking towards where he went but got stopped by Violet instead as she introduced him to some important people.

Mycroft walked down to the pond before he turned back toward the party. It had helped him calm down, which he was grateful for. He could see Anthea with his mother at the edges of the dance floor, chatting with some of the more influential donors, and he headed that way to join them.

Anthea was politely conversing with a few of the people that Violet wanted to meet when she felt eyes on her, so she turned to look around and saw Mycroft walking towards them. She smiled warmly at him, then focused her attention back to the conversation at hand, waiting for him to join her.

He returned the smile, strolling up to the group to stand at Anthea's side, waiting until a lull in the conversation to greet everyone, playing the part of the amiable host. He was holding himself a bit stiffly, but it was likely the only people who would notice would be Violet and Anthea.

Anthea felt his stiff posture beside her and when it was appropriate a few minutes later Anthea turned to him with a slight smile. "Walk with me? I haven't seen the gardens yet," she made their excuses and took his arm to guide him back the way that he had come.

He nodded a polite goodbye to the others and let Anthea shepherd him down the path. "but you have seen the gardens," he muttered.

"But you're upset about something and I didn't want to leave you stewing on your own," she explained as they walked down the path towards the pond, "It's been a lovely evening so far."

"Yes, it's going to be quite successful for the trust," he replied. "And I'm not upset, precisely. More, hmm, irritated."

"Is it something to do with your mother? You were with her just before it happened," Anthea squeezed his arm gently as they neared the willow tree and pond.

Mycroft sighed. "Yes. She's meddling." He replied, stopping by the edge of the pond, knowing he should step away, but unwilling to leave her presence any sooner than he'll have to, and he'll have to, if she manages to wrest a confession from him.

"Is she trying to push you towards some lady? She jumped on the wedding cake comment last night," Anthea stood a few paces away, watching him brood by the edge of the pond.

"Isn't it obvious?" He asked, exasperated, looking over at her pointedly.

That threw her for a moment. She stared at him with wide eyes, "No, actually, it’s not obvious," she snapped, bristling a bit over his tone.

He turned to her with an incredulous expression on his face. "You're actually going to stand there and tell me you have no idea, absolutely zero clue, who my mother could be pushing me toward?" 

"Unless it's Imogen, which I highly I doubt, no, I have no idea! The only people I know here are you and your mother," her eyes were wide with shock at his attitude towards her.

"You are the most impossible woman I have ever had the pleasure of knowing," Mycroft hissed. What was she playing at? "It's you, of course!"

"Me?" She took a step back? Her... But why? She didn't understand, "I spent more than seven years as your assistant, then... Why? I'm just Anthea, your old assistant turned colleague," she was entirely confused, "Your mother is pushing this, is there any reason on your end that supports her pushing this?"

Mycroft could just feel the tendrils of a massive headache creeping up the back of his neck. "Because I've gone and been an idiot and fallen in love with you, all right? I mean, no, I know it isn't all right, since you just want to be my friend, you've been very clear on that point!" he almost-shouted at her. They were far enough away from the party that it was possible he might not have been heard, but he could see heads turning out of the corner of his eye.

"Well maybe it would be a bit more clear if you just came out and said it and didn't treat me like you always did, you great big dolt!" She stormed up to him and thumped him on the chest when she called him a dolt, "Maybe then I wouldn't be so clear on the being just friends point! I thought that that was what you wanted!" Anthea was repeatedly hitting him on the chest to make a point clear.

Mycroft kept stepping back as she thumped him in the chest, looking confused as she called him a dolt, but as realization slowly dawned he began to laugh, clutching his side. "Oh damn, damn, my ribs are still tender, you little demon," he yelped.

"Are you laughing at me?" She wanted to stay mad, but she couldn't deny that she was a bit concerned for his ribs, "This is not something to laugh about, Mycroft. Are you okay, come over here and have a seat," she started guiding him towards the little bench.

"I'm fine. Better than fine," he assured her, sitting down on the bench and drawing her over to stand between his legs, taking her hands in his. "And I'm not laughing at you, I'm laughing at the situation, don't you see? I'm sorry for shouting a confession of love at you - that isn't at all how I imagined it might go. I thought I'd send flowers, like I have been," he said sheepishly.

"Well don't stop doing that," she frowned down at their hands slightly, "How long, Mycroft? How long have you felt this way?" Anthea wanted to be angry with him, to storm away in a high dramatic dungeon, but all she could do was stand and hold his hands while talking to him.

"Oddly enough, since the last time we sat and talked under this tree. It was the work of a minute to fall in love with you. It's going to take a lifetime to make me want to even try to not love you. Please. Please, Anthea. Don't make me try," he pleaded.   
"I'm not asking you to," she murmured, squeezing his hands, "I've spent the past month trying to not love you, thinking that you just wanted a friend... I'm sorry that I was so blind," she looked away, a bit abashed.

"You weren't the only one," Mycroft murmured, getting to his feet. He gently grasped her chin and turned her face back to his, "You have nothing to be sorry for. I wasn't precisely forthcoming."

"Perhaps it would be easier if we used words instead of subtle actions from now on?" Anthea suggested softly, looking up at him with slight tears pricking the corner of her eyes. She was so happy, but upset over this at the same time. It would work out soon, just for now she would have a moment.

Mycroft took his handkerchief from his pocket and gently dabbed at the tears in the corners of her eyes. "Excellent idea," he murmured. "I would very much like to kiss you now. Do you have any objections?"

"No, just don't let me fall," she tried to smile but she was much more interested in leaning into him and sliding her fingers around his neck, careful to mind the hair as she met his lips with hers for the first time.

Mycroft sighed against her lips, one hand cradling her cheek, the other at the small of her back, holding her against him. He returned the kiss slowly, almost reverently, leaving it to her to set the pace.

Anthea could feel in his pace that Mycroft was not kissing her hard and not as strongly as she had witnessed him do to others in the past, "Mycroft, don't hold back on me," she murmured against his lips softly.

"If you're sure," he replied, nipping softly at her lower lip as he slid his hand further back, cradling the back of her head.

"Yes," she breathed out, losing herself easily in kissing him back with intensity. Anthea's hand around the back of his neck moved backwards a bit so that her thumb could stroke his jaw.

He shuddered at the touch of her thumb along his jaw as the kiss deepened. The intensity and emotion was overwhelming and he could honestly say he'd never been kissed like this before. It was thrilling and utterly frightening all at the same time.

Anthea pulled away from his mouth slightly, eyes closed and her forehead resting gently against his, "That was... I don't know if I have words for it."

"I'm not sure I do, either," he murmured, pressing his lips to her forehead. "As much as I'd like to explore that further, we should probably get back to the party."

"So you're done having sulked now that you've secured my affections," she murmured with a wicked glint in her eye, "I feel as though we shouldn't say anything to your mother just to get her back for meddling."

"Darling, she's also Sherlock's mother. There is nothing that gets past her. We won't _have_ to say anything at all," Mycroft replied. "Although I agree that letting her stew would serve her right."

"It's not as if we will actually be acting any differently now," she pointed out, stepping away and taking his hand to pull him in a different direction from where they came to make a circle back to the party, "In hindsight, I'm sure everyone already thought that we were together before we realized how the other felt."

"I'm not quite sure Charles thought so," Mycroft groused, but there was no heat in his remark. Bloody Charlie Winston could think anything he liked, the little toe-rag.

"You were jealous, weren't you," Anthea squeezed his hand lightly as they neared the crowd, "I might dance with other people just to make you jealous all night, better be careful."

He looked over at her, considering that remark. "You know, I actually believe you would," he teased. "You may have to, I still owe Imogen a dance." 

The party was in full swing, plenty of people dancing and the sound of conversation filled the air. Perhaps they hadn't been noticed after all. 

Anthea laughed, "I think that I shall be fine giving your hand up to such a great lady for one dance," she slid her hand up to hold his arm as they neared the other guests, spotting a few people she recognized from earlier and floating towards them.

Mycroft drifted along with Anthea, not quite willing to leave her side just yet, his hand over hers on his arm. He chatted amiably with the others, and thankfully the topics were not those that required much concentration; all his attention was on her. 

Anthea smiled and chatted amiably with the crowd they had joined, making connections that she would be able to rely on at a later date. Constantly, while she was standing and talking, she knew exactly where Mycroft was and what he was doing, reacting to his every shift with one of her own as though they were two stars orbiting one another.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Red Tulips: Believe me; Declaration of Love   
> Moss Rosebuds: Confession of Love
> 
>  
> 
> We're almost to the end! One chapter and an epilogue to go. 
> 
> We have more for in store for you, though! Um, five years of writing together leaves a lot to be edited, so I thought I'd poll our readers. 
> 
> Would you like a Selkie AU or a Regency AU next?


	13. Arbutus and Aster

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The party winds down and there is good-natured gossip and discussion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, darlings! So sorry to bring you this chapter late, I (voxangelus) had a busy, performance-filled weekend with my madrigal choir and my co-author has been under the weather. Look for the epilogue to post on Friday. Thank you all so much for reading!

Violet had caught sight of them from where she stood near the house as they came walking up the path, hands clasped, and she nudged Imogen, beaming. "He told her, or she got tired of waiting for him to confess - oh, they look so happy. I'm so pleased."

"You're lucky it didn't backfire on you," Imogen replied. "He's changed a great deal in a short time. He seems happier overall - I hope it sticks. Although I think it will. You realize he's never called me for flowers for any of his dalliances - just for her, even if they were just gestures of thanks when she was his PA." 

"Really?" Violet was surprised at that. "I hope it sticks as well. I'm not getting any younger and it's not as though Sherlock's going to give me any grandchildren." 

 

Across the terrace, Mycroft leaned in and murmured in Anthea's ear, "I told you there's no putting anything past my mother. She's standing over there practically vibrating with glee."

"I see her, she's standing with Imogen. They seem to be very close, is Imogen staying with us tonight?" She glanced briefly around the party, seeing the two older women standing together across the crowd. If she was a more gossipy woman, she might think that the way that those two acted around one another was a bit closer than two old friends. Perhaps she'd mention it to Mycroft later.

"She usually does," Mycroft replied. "Always comes to Sunday breakfast in her pyjamas, it gives Mummy fits," he said with a grin. "Personally, I think Mummy needs more things that give her fits - it's good for her." The others they had been talking with had drifted away, and he took Anthea's hand. "Dance with me?"

"Always," she murmured, throwing caution to the wind and lifting his hand to her lips, "Lead on, Mr. Holmes," she smiled to him, her eyes fixed on him and uncaring for the rest of the party.

He briefly caressed her cheek with his fingertips, then held her a bit closer than social convention strictly allowed as they moved around the floor. 

Anthea followed his steps around the dance floor, his fingers splayed along the bare part of her back making her flush a bit. Mycroft held her very close for being in public together, but she couldn’t say she minded in the least, as long as it was discreet and he did not attempt to go farther.

As the music ended, he guided Anthea over near Violet and Imogen. "Ladies," he intoned, "I trust you're having a pleasant evening?" 

"Not as pleasant as you, I'd wager," Imogen replied tartly, as Violet elbowed her. "I do believe you owe me a dance, young man, if you can separate yourself from this lovely young lady for a few minutes."

"Please take him, I don't think that I'll ever be rid of him if you don't!" Anthea grinned, moving to stand with Violet and watch Imogen lead him away from her.

"Ha, ha," Mycroft replied dryly, offering Imogen his arm, and they went off to the dance floor, deep in conversation. 

Violet laughed softly, smiling over at Anthea. "Enjoying the party?"

"I am, it's a very lovely party, Mrs. Holmes," she smiled and looked over the crowd, "I'm very pleased to have been invited, it's been a very lovely evening."

"We're pleased to have you, dear. I hope you've been able to make some useful contacts," Violet replied, taking a sip of her champagne. "Mycroft has been behaving himself, I trust?"

"He's been the perfect gentleman, as you well know he always is," Anthea smiled to the older woman, "I think that I have made some good contacts, a few of which might even contact me in the coming weeks seeking help."

"I think it's only recently he's always been a perfect gentleman in all aspect of his life," Violet said quietly, "I cannot thank you enough for what you did to find him in Italy."

"Please, it was my job," she replied, so happy that she had done so as well. Anthea did not think that she could imagine her life without that infuriating man anymore, nor did she want to.

"It may have been your job, but I could be looking at his gravestone right now, instead of watching him dance," Violet responded, gently laying her hand on Anthea's forearm. "Really, _/thank you_ , from the bottom of my heart." 

"Honestly, it was never an option to allow that woman to get away with anything," Anthea murmured to Violet, "I would not let anything happen to Mycroft. I assure you," she smiled weakly, wishing to drop the subject.

Violet merely smiled, squeezing Anthea's arm gently before letting go. "Well, I'm pleased you've made some useful contacts and I'll be even better pleased when they call you," she said cheerily. 

Soon, Mycroft and Imogen returned, pink-cheeked and laughing from the energetic cha cha they'd been dancing. Mycroft sank into a chair with a grin. "I fear I may need a nap after that one," he quipped. 

Anthea laughed, snagging a glass of sparkling water from a waiter and setting it down for Mycroft, "Catch your breath. I believe that you promised me another dance or two this evening?" She raised an eyebrow at him and settled in the chair beside him.

He took a sip of the water. "Thank you, my dear. And yes, I did. At least another dance or two. Thankfully I don't have far to walk if my feet start to hurt," he agreed, wiggling his toes inside his shoes. 

"Lucky you," she rested a hand on his knee under the table, unable to resist the physical contact with him now that they were back by each other's sides, "Tell me, what room does Imogen stay in when she visits the manor?"

Mycroft thought about it a moment, puzzled. "I actually have no idea. She's never been my guest to worry about. There's three more bedrooms on the second level besides the master suite and the nursery, likely in one of those."

"I see," Anthea looked to the two women who were wandering around the party as though both of them were the hostesses, not just the taller, more willowy one.

"I see you're venturing down a path I've already considered. Someone wasn't wearing her own dressing gown to Sunday breakfast the last time someone and I were out here of a weekend at the same time," Mycroft murmured, his eye following Anthea's. 

"I don't know why I'm thinking that way," Anthea moved her eyes away from the two women, focusing instead on watching the dance floor, "There is just something so natural and at ease about those two being around one another."

"They really are. They make a far more cohesive unit than she ever did with my father, whatever type of a unit it is. A fifty-year friendship is nothing to sneeze at in any case," he agreed, more occupied with watching Anthea than anything else. 

"Neither is eight years of a working relationship," she smiled, not looking at him but well aware that his attention was focused on her. It was very easy most of the time to tell what he was thinking or how he was feeling, and it gave Anthea no end to pleasure that she knew him so well.

"No, it isn't. I was beastly to you that night, incredibly callous. I hope you can forgive me," Mycroft said, taking a sip of his water. 

"I never held it against you, Mycroft, don't dwell on it, my dear," she looked over at him seriously, reminding herself to somehow reassure him of that fact in some tactful way. Perhaps she should have Imogen help her with an arrangement or two.

Mycroft smiled at her, the corners of his eyes crinkling. "I think I'm ready for another dance or two, if you'd like," he said, standing and holding his hand out to her. 

She stood with him, walking onto the dance floor with him, "You just want an excuse to touch me in public," she grumbled lightly to him and floated around the other couples with him.

"I just want an excuse to touch you, full stop. I rather like having you in my arms, I'd like you there as much as possible," Mycroft agreed, although he kept to a proper dance frame this time.

She chuckled as they moved, "I'm going to have to watch myself around you," she chided him, "If I'm not careful, I'll hardly do anything because you're constantly distracting me. How are we going to survive my trip to Osaka for a few days?"

"I'll be busy with the ambassadors' visit, and work in general. I'll miss you terribly but I think we'll both survive," he replied. "And you'll be dealing with your first international merger, you'll be occupied with that. We do have phones, and the time difference is odd, but not horrible."

"Will you be there to pick me up from Heathrow when I land?" she teased him with a smile. He most likely would be, and she wanted him to be. If she was honest with herself, she'd like him to drop her off as well, but it would be likely that he would drop her at her flat late Sunday then she'd meet Jennifer at the airport early Monday morning.

He smiled, looking surprised. "You want me to pick you up from the airport? Of course I'll be there," he assured her, his fingers gently caressing her back. 

"Well, if you're not too busy with your dignitaries, that is," she looked over his shoulder as she spoke, trying to fight the urge to tell him how she was quite certain that she would want him there to pick her up.

"Darling, just tell me when the flight gets in and I'll be there. I'll send the dignitaries sightseeing if I have to," Mycroft replied, bringing their clasped hands to his lips and kissing her knuckles. 

"I'll send you the itinerary when I get a chance," she smiled softly up at the very sweet and thoughtful man. She was sure that no one from before Italy would believe her if she told them about how Mycroft was today, and she was fine with that. Anthea rather liked having her own secret version of Mycroft all to herself.

"Very good, thank you," he murmured, returning the smile. "Another dance? I must warn you, that means you're letting me show especial interest - although nobody really pays much attention to that in the last thirty years or so."

"Don't the matching flowers already mean that I am somewhat taken?" She moved to clap for the musicians after the last piece, then turned back into his arms for the next dance, "I think that I would like to make it clear to anyone who pays attention that we have serious intentions for one another."

"Somewhat," he admitted, as they twirled across the floor, his expression playful. "You have serious intentions for me, Miss Jones? Dear me. That sounds particularly ominous - I hope they are pleasantly serious."

"Nothing so ominous, I think that that has all passed us for the time being," her expression was half playful, half serious as they moved in tandem, "I hope that your intentions align with mine for the most part," Anthea was slightly worried that she would become the next in a long list of women, but the more logical side of her brain told her that Mycroft had changed and would not do that to her.

Mycroft pulled her close to execute a turn, saying softly in her ear, "I certainly hope my intentions align with yours. They are long-term in nature and eventually, I hope, legally-binding in structure." 

"That sounds about right," she murmured back, relaxing into his arms and twirling with grace and security that she was unsure if she had ever felt before.

The party was beginning to wind down and not many people were left at that point, so Mycroft continued to hold her close as they danced, confident in each other's arms and looking forward to the future. 

"What do we need to do to help finish the party up?" Anthea asked, noting that the space was emptying out and a bit keen to have Mycroft to herself.

"Nothing - we'll go over the official numbers in the next few days, and the cleanup crew will be here in an hour or so to deal with taking everything down," he said, kissing her temple. "I should make the rounds and say goodbye to the few people who are left, as it's mostly old family friends."

"Well come along then," she smiled to him then pulled him towards a group of people she suspected would fall into the category of old family friends.

Mycroft followed along, spending a few minutes with each little group of people, thanking them for their generosity and for attending. It seemed just about everyone had enjoyed the affair and were glad to support such a worthy cause. Eventually, everyone else was gone and he guided Anthea over to the table where Violet and Imogen were sitting, their gloves stripped off and their shoes under the table. 

He shrugged out of his jacket, laying across the back of a chair, before sitting down with a sigh. "Well, I think that was quite a successful evening." 

"Everything went smoothly and we managed to clear them all out before two in the morning - that's success as far as I'm concerned," Violet answered. 

"It seems like it went perfectly," Anthea sat in the chair nearest to Mycroft, stripping off her own gloves and toeing her shoes under the table, "Thank you for inviting me to this, I cannot remember a time when when I had so much enchanted fun.”

"These events are far more enjoyable when one isn't working or trying to gather intel," Mycroft agreed, capturing her hand and kissing the back of it before letting it go again. He turned to Violet, eyebrow raised. "Please tell me that I can sleep for more than five hours before breakfast." 

"Brunch. Strictly brunch," Violet assured him, holding up her glass of champagne. "I think this is number five. Perhaps six. I need my beauty sleep."

"Bed sounds like heaven right now," Anthea sighed dreamily. Her feet were a bit sore, and she was sure that as soon as she lay down on the soft bed in the Hawthorne room, she would feel like she was floating on clouds.

"I think that's my cue to make sure no marauding hordes of woodland creatures prevent a certain lady from getting to her bed," Mycroft quipped. "Mummy, Imogen - have a good night." He stood and stretched a bit, putting his jacket over his arm and offering Anthea a hand up from her chair. 

Anthea picked up her gloves and shoes in one hand, standing with the help of Mycroft's hand and then lifting the hem of her skirt to walk with him back to their rooms. "Goodnight ladies, try to get to bed soon," she called over her shoulder to Imogen and Violet as they walked away. 

"Thank you for the lovely evening Mycroft."

He held the door into the foyer open for her, following behind. "You're welcome. I'm glad you enjoyed yourself - and I'm very pleased we have come to an understanding," he replied, guiding her down the corridor to their rooms. 

"Mycroft, I'm more than happy that we came to our understanding; I fear that we would have continued to push each other’s buttons until we pushed the other away," they turned down their hallway, nearing the Hawthorne and Mycroft's room, "I know you're tired, but I would very much like it if you slept in bed with me," Anthea's voice was soft, almost vulnerable as they walked. It was hard for Anthea to ask for something, even from someone who she was so close and open with.

Mycroft turned to Anthea with a soft smile on his lips. "I think I would like that very much," he agreed, leaning down and kissing her softly. "Let me go and get ready for bed, and I'll join you in just a few minutes." 

"If you take too long, I will come for you," she warned with a soft smile, going to her door and opening it, turning the light on and stopping short. There, sitting on her bed, in just his pants and a grin, was Charlie Winston.

"Hello Anthea Jones," he smiled charmingly, "Why don't you join me over here?"

"Get out," any soft, kind or graciousness she had was thrown out of her and remnants of her in Italy came back, "Get out _now_ or I will remove you as you are and ensure that Violet and Mycroft both know of how disgraceful you are to your family," she waited a moment for him to start moving, and when he didn't, she took a step towards him, "I am very skilled in what I do, and that extends to knowing how to physically incapacitate you and even do you harm. Do not make me use those skills on you."

The whelp of a manchild scrambled off her bed and out of the door, just taking time to grab his things and race towards where she assumed his car was.

Mycroft was just coming out of his room, clad in his pyjamas and dressing gown, as he saw Charlie go running by in nothing but his pants. He pulled Anthea's door open, looking around a bit frantically for her. "Are you alright? What in the world was Charlie doing?"

"Putting himself where he doesn't belong," she growled, stomping to her suitcase, dropping her shoes and gloves inside while snatching up her pajamas, "I'm sorry, please make yourself comfortable, I'll only be a moment."

"Oh, I've wanted dirt on that smarmy little bastard for years. How kind of him to provide it," Mycroft drawled, dropping into the armchair with a contented sigh. "Take your time - I'm fine here."

She smiled at him before going to her en suite to change and clean her teeth quickly, going to hang her dress up in the closet once more. She took several deep breaths to calm herself from such an absurd situation, "Ready, Mycroft?" She stood in front of him in a tight fitting tank top and cropped shorts, completely unabashed in her state of undress.

He nodded, taking off his dressing gown and leaving it on the chair before crossing to her, clad in just a pair of striped pyjama pants, his chest bare. "I... wow," He murmured.

"It's just a bit more skin than you've already seen, Mycroft," she rolled her eyes slightly, "Come along to bed, I'm tired," she took his hand and pulled him towards the bed be a hand, leaving him to one side and going around the other to get in.

"Yes, but it's your skin, and so I find it especially interesting," he replied. He climbed into the bed, getting under the covers, and turned on his side to face her.

Anthea lay on her side, facing Mycroft with a grin, "I find your skin especially interesting as well," she reached out a hand and gently ran it over his upper body and around his shoulder to cup the back of his neck. Her eyes raked over his body, looking for any hidden damage from a few months ago. He said his ribs still hurt him, though she couldn't see any bruising left over.

He sighed contentedly as she looked him over, her hand warm on the back of his neck. "All in one piece, I promise. Just a little tender in some spots." He ran his fingers along her arm, a soft caress.

"I know, I just like reassuring myself of that with my own eyes and hands," she scooted closer, relaxing next to him with her arm wrapped around him.

Mycroft shifted into his back and slid his arm sound Anthea's shoulders, fingers toying with the ends of her hair. "And are you satisfied that I am all in working order?"

"For now, I am satisfied enough," she nuzzled into his shoulder and slid her hand to rest gently on his chest, "Sleep, I think that we both had a long day, dearest, and a long week to deal with after we get home tomorrow."

"Yes," agreed Mycroft, stifling a yawn. "Sweet dreams, Anthea. I know mine will be."

"I don't need sweet dreams when I already have a life that most could only dream of," she murmured, eyes closed and relaxing into sleep, "Goodnight, Mycroft."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Arbutus - I Love Only Thee  
> Aster - Contentment


	14. Epilogue: Baby's Breath and Honeysuckle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It turns out that one can get a happily ever after, even if one has to be literally beaten black and blue to realize what's right in front of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for reading! Be on the lookout for something else in a few weeks, probably a Regency AU that we rather like. I (voxangelus) have a Kingsman FicWars story and a couple of auction fics to finish up first.

Mycroft woke to the vibrating of his mobile on the table next to his head. He considered reaching for it but to do so he would have to disentangle himself from his sleeping fiancee, and that didn't sound like a good idea at all. Instead, he nuzzled behind her ear and left a trail of kisses down her neck, hoping to give her a pleasant nudge into wakefulness.

Anthea felt someone nuzzling into her neck, causing her to moan quietly. "Mycroft, you're not supposed to be here," she turned on her side away from him. "It's bad luck to see each other before the wedding, your mother will raise a fuss if she sees you leaving my room," she laced her fingers with the hand that she found first, squeezing it lightly.

"That is an old wives' tale. Let her fuss, all she's done for the last six months since we got engaged is fuss," he murmured, cuddling up behind her. 

"You can't spend more than a few hours from me, can you?" She rested back into his chest, "It's just for a few hours before we are officially and legally bound together for life, are you sure you don't want a few hours without me?" She was teasing him, they both well knew how strongly they felt for one another.

He tucked his arms back around her, going right back to his nuzzling and kissing. "No, absolutely not. I want another twenty minutes with you before you get whisked off to be primped and polished," he protested.

"Dear God, help me. Between your mother, my mother, Jennifer, and Imogen? I'm going to need a drink to get through this," she muttered to herself. "Say we skip out on it all and just run away after signing the marriage license quickly?" Anthea wriggled slightly against him, a bit too pleased with his ministrations.

"I'll trade you. You can spend the day golfing with Sherlock, John, Greg, and Martin," Mycroft murmured against her shoulder, his hand sliding down to her hip. "Running away sounds like an excellent idea. Isn't that what we'll be doing in approximately twenty-four hours? Surely we can get through that long until we're aboard the jet, heading for the Seychelles?"

"I just hope that Imogen and Jennifer are able to contain our mothers well enough so that today isn't a painful beauty ordeal for me," Anthea was quite sure that she would happily run away with Mycroft rather than go through with this, but she supposed that they also had family to not disappoint.

"One more day, my love." Of course, then the hinting about grandchildren would start- well, continue - but at least that didn't come with a requisite spa day.

"Well, then of course they will start in on asking if I’m pregnant yet, or when we plan on having them because they are ‘not getting any younger, you know’," her words were more of an echo of things she'd heard her mother saying rather than her own words.

Mycroft laughed softly, sliding his hand under her pyjama top to caress the warm skin there. "Stop reading my mind, love. It's uncanny." 

"You know, it was once my job to read your mind, my dearest," she smiled at his soft touch to her skin, "Honestly though, when would you like to start trying to have a child? Without our families' influence?"

"I don't know, I've been having ever so much fun just practising," he teased, nipping at her earlobe. "Honestly though, there never will be a time that's better than any other with our professions - I'm ready whenever you are."

"Well, ideally, I would want one of us to be home with a baby," she curled her toes at his lips on her ear, "But we can discuss those details later. Mycroft really, you need to get out so that I can begin my day of beauty torture, and isn't your tee time in a little more than an hour or so?"

"You aren't any fun at all. These last few days have been so busy I feel like I've hardly seen you," he pouted, trailing kisses down her neck and shoulder, "But I'll go if you really want me to." He still didn’t make any move to leave the bed. 

"Well, we have all tonight and he next few weeks in Seychelles. Then we will be home and just have our regular schedules," she consoled him. "Until I see you at the altar, my love, I'll be the one in white," she turned over and winked, then pulled him down for a lingering kiss.

He sighed, savoring a last kiss before getting out of the bed. "I was never here," he said with a smirk, tapping the side of his nose as he opened the door and went out into the corridor. 

"Mycroft Edwin Sherrinford Holmes!"

Busted. 

"Good morning, Mummy. Beautiful day for a wedding, isn't it?" Mycroft dissembled, as he attempted to shimmy past Violet to get to the staircase. 

"It's bad luck, Mycroft. Sherlock just texted, they'll be here in fifteen minutes. You had better get dressed. Honestly, I thought putting you in your old rooms upstairs would keep you there." 

"Perhaps it may have, if I'd actually had a chance to see my bride for more than ten minutes at a time for the past week. Please use moderation, I'd like to still recognise her at the altar," he pleaded. 

Violet merely glared at him and pointed in the direction of the stairwell.

Mycroft winced. "Yes ma'am." 

Anthea stifled a giggle as she got out of bed and listened to Violet and Mycroft banter back and forth. She agreed a bit with Mycroft about hardly having any time to themselves this past week while preparing for the wedding.

With a sigh and a bolstering deep breath, Anthea went to go shower and groom herself a bit before everyone else descended upon her with their ideas of how she should be dressed up for this event.

She had found her own dress, though everyone who had seen it and knew of her and Mycroft's relationship approved tenfold of the design, especially Violet and Imogen. There had been a few alterations to the flowers adorning it with their input, and in the end she had a beautiful gown to totally amaze Mycroft with.

What she was worried about was what everyone would think about trying to paint her with when it came to her hair, nails and makeup throughout the day. A limo would be by in an hour to take them to a nearby town for breakfast, salon time, lunch, then back to the manor for the wedding.

Mycroft hurried upstairs for a quick shower and got dressed, barely having time to grab some breakfast before he was shoved into the Land Rover Sherlock had rented and taken to the golf course. He wasn't sure whose bright idea it was to let Sherlock onto a golf course, but John did an admirable job of keeping him on task and away from the sand traps. Greg, whom Mycroft had reached out to in friendship after so many professional meetings, just laughed at them all, and Martin had the best score of everyone. 

They had lunch in the golf club’s restaurant, then they were back to the manor, using Mycroft's childhood bedroom and study to get ready. Anthea had elected to only have one attendant, and Sherlock had agreed (after much convincing) to stand up for Mycroft. 

Once out of the shower, Anthea wore her hair down to dry loosely around her shoulders and put on a simple dress with sandals to go out in for the morning. Everyone was down in the foyer by the time she was ready and they all piled into the limo chatting amiably.

Over the past year, her mother had gotten to know Violet and Imogen well enough, and Jennifer knew everyone quite well after having spent so much time in Anthea's life. Jennifer would be standing up for her as her Maid of Honor, not really needing anyone else beside her since she had all of the other women to help her ready for today with enthusiasm.

After breakfast at a lovely tea shop, they went to have their nails done, then hair. Anthea went for neutral tones on her nails, hair in an elegant looking up-do, and just enough makeup to accent her features well, but nothing overly done. Violet and her mother had pushed for more, while Jennifer remained quite or supportive of whatever was going on, and Imogen seemed to be the voice of reason to let Anthea do as she pleased.

Lunch was a simple affair for the sake of timing. They needed to get back to the manor to dress and settle a few last minute details.

It didn't take Mycroft long at all to shower and shave and get most of the way ready, lounging around in the study with the rest of the men. He was having a remarkably good time, and they were trying hard to keep him occupied, but his thoughts kept drifting. He was more than ready at quarter to two when they all went down to the garden, where chairs and a beautiful arbor full of flowers had been set up. Imogen had been coaxing the arbor along since early spring with exactly the varieties of climbing flowers and vines she wanted, and it looked absolutely stunning. 

Mycroft took his place near the arbor, Sherlock waiting back by the foyer doors to escort Jennifer down the aisle. 

With as little fuss as Anthea thought might have been possible, everyone readied, Imogen and Violet going upstairs to dress while Anthea, her mother and Jennifer went to her room to dress.

She sent her mother away after a few minutes of the older woman getting a bit teary eyed at seeing her only child wed, leaving her with Jennifer to walk with her to the foyer, meeting Sherlock there with a bit of a grin and twirl. The man nodded, seeming to approve of what she'd chosen, then offered Jennifer his arm to proceed down the aisle towards Mycroft.

Anthea stayed around the corner, waiting for her cue and trying to calm her racing heart. She was about to walk down the aisle to her Mycroft, and be bound with him in a legally permanent way. Gripping her bouquet in her hands when she heard the music, she stepped around the corner and made eye contact with him, smiling just to him when she saw the look on his face.

Perhaps there was something to be said for being separated from one's intended before the wedding, or perhaps that was just an old wives' tale, but the moment Anthea came into view, Mycroft had eyes for nothing and no-one else. She looked absolutely radiant in her gown, and as she came closer, he could see all the different varieties of flowers attached to the dress, a proliferation of symbolism and meaning. 

He hadn't even realized he was crying until Sherlock pressed a handkerchief into his hand and muttered something about not being such an utter sap, but he dried his face just the same, his brilliant smile that was just for her never faltering. 

Mycroft was going to make her cry, the daft thing. She saw Sherlock tucking a kerchief into his hand so that he could dry his face, his smile never once faltering for her.  
When she finally reached him and took his hand to take the final steps to the altar, she was sure that a stray tear or two had made it's way down her cheek, but she couldn't be asked to care at the moment. Later, she didn't think that she would be able to tell anyone a word that the priest said either, save for the final few words - but that was why they were video recording the entire thing.

Mycroft's hands were steady as they exchanged rings, and he was glad they'd opted for the standard vows, because he wasn't sure he could concentrate on anything but Anthea. Finally, he registered the priest telling him he could kiss his bride, and he did so, sweetly but thoroughly. 

Anthea kissed him back, her hand sliding up to his freshly shaved cheek, then pulling back with a smile. "Finally," she murmured to him, turning to look at the crowd with his hand firmly in hers.

Mycroft didn't think he'd ever been happier, standing there in front of their friends and family, having just married the love of his life. He knew he had a ridiculously large grin on his face, and he didn't care one whit. They stood there for a few moments and then he led her back up the aisle, still in a daze.

The photographer intercepted them as they came down the aisle, directing them towards the back of the house where they had requested earlier that they take a few photographs by the pond and willow tree together. Anthea wished that she had a moment alone with Mycroft, to revel in their new found attachment, but she was sure that they would have it soon enough.

Mycroft was the one who had suggested pictures by the tree and the pond, and the afternoon light was good enough that the photographer was even able to get a few of them on the bench under the willow in various sweet poses. He was tempted to just tell everyone to clear off - they had kissed many times under the tree since the first time, but he always wanted more. 

"Patience, love," she murmured to him, seeing how high strung he was working himself to, "We will have all the time in the world soon enough, for now we are on loan to our friends and family," she smiled to the photographer when he said it was time to go back to their little chapel area that they had created to take pictures in with their family.

"I'm trying," he muttered, taking a few deep breaths before they followed the photographer back up to the house for more pictures. "I'm sorry, I'm being an awful baby about everything and that isn't fair to you. Have I told you yet how stunning you are? The dress is perfect."

"You're fine, it's very understandable," she smiled to him, "I thought you might like it, I had your mothers help me pick out the flowers to design it with," since Imogen had 'moved in' with Violet to help with the wedding, Anthea had been teasing Mycroft about them. Seems he had wanted to turn a blind eye to the whole thing and deny the attachment's existence.

He rolled his eyes. "I only have the one mother, thank you. If Imogen decides to make an honest woman of her, I'll reconsider my position," he quipped, bringing her hand to his lips and kissing it. 

The rest of the pictures went quickly enough - even Sherlock cooperated, making Mycroft wonder who had bribed him with what for a moment before deciding he didn't really need to know. 

Anthea chuckled at him, smiling for the great amount of photographs that they had to take still. The tiring few hours were worth it, with Mycroft at her side the entire time. 

Everything finished, they sent everyone into the reception, taking a moment for themselves, "Almost done, my love," she told him, wrapping her arms lightly around his torso and smiling widely, "my Mr. Holmes."

"Don't you know, darling wife, that I have always been your Mr Holmes?" Mycroft replied, holding her close. "Only now you have documentation that proves it." 

"And I'm all yours, though I think that I shall be pulling that trump card out more to clear you from your schedule than you will be for me," she smiled up to him undeniably blissfully happy.

He kissed her blissful smile, unable to keep the same beaming grin from his own face. "Hmm, is that so? I think you'd better wait until I tell you about my wedding present," he suggested. 

"Mycroft," she admonished, "I thought that we agreed on nothing too large," it was difficult to get him anything as it was, no less something so significant for their wedding gifts. She had settled on getting him a series of tie clips and cufflinks that had elements of their significant flowers of their relationship on them.

"I haven't spent half our fortune on anything," he assured her, gently stroking her cheek. And it was true. He hadn't actually purchased anything at all. "Martin hasn't been my PA for the past six months - I've been pulling assistants from the secretarial pool. He's been my protégé. He's not quite ready to take over yet - he won't be for some time, probably about five years - but starting from when we return from our honeymoon trip, he'll be assuming the less-sensitive aspects of my job and I'll only be in the office half-time."

"And you waited all this time to tell me that Martin is not your assistant?" she wanted to be mad at him for that, but there was a bigger part of Anthea that pointed out that he wouldn't be in the office so much, and would be spending more time with her, then perhaps when they decided to have children, assume a full time fatherhood role.

"I wanted it to be a surprise - he'd shown some potential, but after we decided to get married, do you remember how I was gone for almost a month straight? I hated it. I hated being away from you and I got to thinking that life didn’t necessarily have to be like that if I could convince myself to give up some control," he explained, hoping she would understand his reasoning.

"I'm... Amazed, really Mycroft. You're doing this for me, for our life together, and that is the greatest gift that I have ever received... I don't know what to say," she was sure that her heart was going to stop in her chest, she was so overwhelmingly in love with this man.

He couldn't resist kissing her once more, deep and long and full of promises. "You needn't say anything. I was pleased to do it for us," he murmured after, his forehead resting against hers. 

"Oi, lovebirds! Do you want us all to be blind drunk before dinner? Get a move on!" Greg grinned at them, waving from the door into the house. 

"I believe that's our cue, Mrs Holmes," Mycroft said dryly. 

Anthea smiled, then started to laugh, "Oh no, I'm going to feel like someone is addressing your mother, never me, when they call me Mrs. Holmes," she took his arm then squared towards the door to enter the reception, "Ready when you are Mr. Jones," she winked at him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Baby's Breath - everlasting love  
> Honeysuckle - happiness


End file.
